Concert Review Coming...

In the meantime...

Silverhawks


G.I. Joe


And for the ladies--which was best?

Jem


Shera (en Espanol)

Just Like Old Times

Between Phil holding his balls and the guy in the back making that face, well...

In case you were concerned, don't be. Jim Nantz is still the whitest man in the world; the intro music used for CBS's golf coverage is still suprisingly awesome; Phil Mickelson still misses two three-foot putts per round, at least; Tiger Woods is still pretty good at golf; and I am still able to blow an entire weekend watching a sport at which I am mostly horrible. Great weekend.

P.S. Schembech...

Isiah Thomas Sucks at Life

Build the third temple so that this motherfucker can enthrone himself already

A little N.W.A inspiration:
Right about now, Straight Bangin' court is in full effect. Judge Joey presiding.

In the case of competency vs. Isiah Thomas, prosecuting attorneys are Knicks fans, Anucha Browne Sanders, and Eazy-motherfuckin'-intelligence.

Order, order, order! Knicks fans, take the motherfuckin' stand. Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help yo' black ass?

You goddamn right.

Why don't you tell everybody what the fuck you gotta say...

Fuck Isiah Thomas, coming straight from the underground
A blue Knicks fan got it bad and must frown
And not the other colors so Thomas think
He has the authority to abuse his seniority
Fuck that shit, 'cuz I ain't the one
For a punk motherfucker who got Q Richardson
To be beatin' on
Thrown into NBA hell
We could go toe-to-toe; did we really need Qyntel?
Fuckin' with me like Knicks fans don't hate'cha
But if you die, your replacement's my savio-ah
Searchin' the floor, lookin' for dope products
You doin' yo' job like you's smokin' narcotics
You'd rather see fans in the stands
Than Steph and Lar-enz-O' rollin' in a benzo
I'd leave the team in better shape
And when I finish, bring the ticker tape
To lie under the feet of our starters
Still gettin' dap for that Finals slaughter
I don't know if you harass or what
Puttin' Anucha down, all but grabbin' your nuts
And on the other hand
Without your rings, you ain't get none
Still lookin' for a job you can get done
'Cuz you take things down from the top
Wack GM, at all things, you's a big flop
Knicks fans should swarm
On anything that the Dolans and Isiah have spawned
Just 'cuz I'm from the NYC
Punk GM's should be afraid of me
Huh
A young Knicks fan on the warpath
And when I finish, Isiah's burnt up into ash
Team's broke but continues to play
For long, I've been dyin' to say

Fuck Isiah
Fuck, fuck, fuck Isiah...

You get the idea, right? Isiah Thomas is a disaster of biblical proportions. Since he retired from basketball, he has yet to find something he couldn't ruin--the CBA; the Pacers; the Knicks; you name it. And now? Now it turns out that Isiah has more in common with Kobe than simply being detestable. I know, I know--people are innocent until proven guilty. I tend to believe in that, but in this case, I will not be surprised if Anucha Browne Sanders is right. Don't be fooled by the big smile and the nice suits: Isiah Thomas is an incompetent lowlife. He needs to go. And so do the Dolans, owners who have allowed Thomas to ruin the Knicks and allegedly allowed an employee who complained about harassment to be fired. What a classy organization.

Oh, and P.S.: Neither the Pacers nor the Kangs are going to be happy with this trade next year at this time.

Help Needed

Wanna be famous? Arms too short to box with God? Well in that case, why not do the next-best thing?

Over at Schembechler Hall, I am trying to write an open-source letter to God cataloguing all of the ways in which Michigan football torments its fans and compiling all of the remedies which we'd like god to implement. Or sayeth. Or speaketh. Or whatever. If you have anything to offer, your assistance would be greatly appreciated. The under-construction letter can be found here. You can even request that god smite Jim Tressel. That doesn't seem uneasonable to me.

Ron-Ron Not Yet Gone

Motherfucking Bravehearts in effect...

I'd imagine that many people heard that Ron Artest was getting traded for Peja Stojakovic and immediately asked an important question: What the fuck is Ron Artest going to do in Sacramento every night? Not known for its raging nightlife or healthy incubatory environment for hip-hop acts in their nascent stages, Sac Town--the second-worst place known for its abundance of cowbell--strikes me as an awful place for the perpetually misunderstood and probably emotionally disturbed Ron Artest. I mean, when you're coming from and have a preference for Queensbridge, you probably can't go too many places to begin with. And Sacramento isn't one of them.

Don't believe me? Please watch this video (well worth the loading time, I promise):

Hood 2 Hood: Queensbridge


But fear not, because the deal ain't happening. After Artest allegedly said that he didn't want to play in Sacramento, the Kangs deaded the trade. There was, of course, the requisite Artest "miscommunication":

"Gray reported earlier Tuesday that both teams had agreed to the trade, pending league approval. Then, according to Gray, Artest informed both teams he did not want to go to the Kings. In light of that, Gray reported, the Kings have decided against the trade.

Artest confirmed to The Indianapolis Star that the deal had collapsed, but he left open the possibility something still could happen.

"There's no deal," Artest told the newspaper by telephone. "It's not that I don't want to play there... I'm letting my agent handle things. He's taken over things." (Emphasis added.)

So wait, which one is it, Ron? "Jogging" or "yogging"? Whatever...


Not really hood

Of course, this was all only after everyone had thought that it was happening and the Kangs had helped Peja pack up his locker:

Before the deal apparently broke down, Kings players were already talking about the trade as if it was a done deal.

"Peja will be missed," Kings forward Corliss Williamson said. "He's been in Sacramento for a lot of years, but life goes on in the NBA.

"We'll welcome Ron Artest with open arms and hope he'll be able to help us. You always hear about the situations he's been in and all the hype. Maybe this is the change he needs, to come into our system and flourish."

Even Stojakovic himself had braced for the eventuality of a trade when word spread of his involvement. He was told by the Kings to stay behind at the team hotel when they left for Tuesday's game at Philadelphia.

Ooh, that's awkward. I bet that last night, while Peja languished at the hotel, Kevin Martin ran around the locker room with Peja's jockstrap on his head while yelling stuff like "Oh no, we're screwed! Now who's gonna get hurt and the choke in the playoffs?!" Or "Well, if Ron's coming, he had better not bring a razor. I had grown used to that ugly-ass Euro neck-beard thing!"

From a basketball standpoint, I'm glad that this isn't happening. First, Peja is not nearly gully enough for Indiana. He would have gotten his shit eaten up in the playoffs. And second, while he would have brought his outside shooting to the team and opened up the floor for O'Neal, he is a defensive liability who probably wasn't gonna fit into the Carlisle universe too well. I know Reggie Miller thinks that Peja's a good fit in that offense, but what about that defense? I suppose that Artest would have helped Sacramento, but that is a sinking-ship team whose point guard dribbles too much and whose power forward has implemented his personal culture of losing. I don't see that being a good situation for Artest; he wasn't even happy on a championship contender.

But fear not NBA-gossip fans: the trade deadline is less than a month away, and there are now two stars who gots to go...

VC Calls Out Kobe; Dogs and Cats Seek Housing Together

Jealousy wears #15

Don't tell Dr. Venkman: Following Kobe Bryant's 81-point explosion on Sunday, Vince Carter has an important message for the kids:

In the aftermath of Kobe Bryant's 81-point explosion Sunday night, Carter told the Newark Star-Ledger that the second-highest scoring performance in NBA history might not set a good example for young players."The only bad thing about it is that younger kids, whose minds are easily warped, are going to think, 'Ohhh! I am going to go out there and do it instead of (honoring) the team concept first,'" the Nets' star told the newspaper. "That is what is missing in the game, guys understanding how to play as a team."

Carter went on to say, "I think it is great for (the NBA): They want scoring, they want ratings, and you are going to get that. You are definitely going to get them now with the amount of 50-point games, 60-plus games. I just hope that kids and young guys understand that (only) special guys can do that. Yeah, the (other Lakers) were trying to get Kobe the ball, they wanted to see a special night. But they all know their roles."

For those of you unfamiliar with the apocalyptic implications of these quotations, please get educated.

This is the same Vince Carter who takes 20 shots per game.

This is the same Vince Carter who "honored" the team concept while playing for Toronto by sulking and whining and tanking until he got traded, only to start playing like an all star again.

This is the same Vince Carter who will hurl himself into a defender or take a contested fade-away three at any given time.

Does Vince have good passing skills? Yes, but he wastes them, so please don't taint the comments section of this post with disingenuous retorts that not even you actually believe.

YouTube: Making Me 10-Years-Old Again

You walkin' wit' ya head down, scared to look...
- Molly Ivins rightly took the Democratic establishment to task yesterday. In her piece on Alternet, she tore into the Washington leadership--notably presidential aspirants like Joe Biden and certified piece of shit Hillary Clinton--for consistently failing to seize upon Republican hypocrisy, policy failings, and dishonesty. Instead, people like Hillary always just go running for the least-controversial middle, alienating the voter base (me and that former comments-section poster Southpaw) and not fooling anyone. "Hear" me now and believe me later: Hillary Clinton could give me a hand job while we watched the Knicks against the Pistons, listened to the new Ghostface, and discussed who should replace Lloyd Carr. I still wouldn't vote for her. Ooh, and actually, let's cancel that hj. No homo?

The only things I don't get are the numbers in Ivins's post. She throws up some figures that strike me as having been cobbled together:

"...The majority of the American people (55 percent) think the war in Iraq is a mistake and that we should get out. The majority (65 percent) of the American people want single-payer health care and are willing to pay more taxes to get it. The majority (86 percent) of the American people favor raising the minimum wage. The majority of the American people (60 percent) favor repealing Bush's tax cuts, or at least those that go only to the rich. The majority (66 percent) wants to reduce the deficit not by cutting domestic spending, but by reducing Pentagon spending or raising taxes. The majority (77 percent) thinks we should do "whatever it takes" to protect the environment. The majority (87 percent) thinks big oil companies are gouging consumers and would support a windfall profits tax. That is the center, you fools..."

Where are these from?

- No Internets Dirk Nowitzki, already widely regarded as the most unintentionally funny and hopelessly ignorant person in the NBA, has struck again. In a good way. On Kobe and taking eleventy billion shots:

"I don't think that would be good from a team standpoint."

Objectively, he's right; that wouldn't be good from a team standpoint. But then you forget about that and picture him, with his hair slicked back and looking all Euro, hopelessly searching for the right thing to say and finally settling on a diplomatic and slightly awkward statement. And then you hear said awkward statement, draped in that hastily spoken generi-Euro accent of his, coming out of his mouth, and you die of laughter. At least, I do.

And I still can't get over Kobe. 81!

The reverentially cited comments-section all-star Alando (conspicuous in his recent absence) shot me an email yesterday saying that Kobe might be the most talented player ever. Set aside all of your Black Mamba hate (and you know that if I'm imploring you to do so, it's serious); all of your admiration for the way that the dude can simultaneously manipulate a chair, a white girl in a hotel room, and himself; and all of your Michael Jordan adoration and consider if that's so. I think a person can make the case. Now, it doesn't mean Kobe's a better player than Michael, a stronger basketball mind, a greater will, or a better teammate. Do not get it twisted. But purely from a talent, an athletic ability standpoint, has anyone had a greater collection of innate abilities? Maybe LeBron, but I think it's too early to tell.

- Jermaine O'Neal on the way out in Indianapolis? Props to Kravitz for acknowledging that J.O. has grown and that the constant struggle may not be all on him. That said, props to Kravitz for also calling out this flawed team. I was bullish on the Pacers in the preseason because I thought Artest would get his mind as right as it can be, but does anyone really think that Indiana is a championship contender right now? Artest, a unique talent, is functionally gone. JTins is never going to be healthy for a full season. Austin Croshere takes up too much of the salary cap. And no team can win a title if every summer is spent hoping that the 6'10" SG is finally gonna break out. Waiting for Bender has been playing in Indy for far too long; he's never gonna happen. Send O'Neal to the Lakers for Andrew Bynum and, um, other guys.

- You need to be reading Schembechler Hall.

- Johnny is killin' it with his UM awards. Peep...

- My hip-hop-blogger contract requires me to inform you that Nas has signed with Def Jam. Kind of. Maybe we can get a track called "Takether" on which Nas and Jay take out everyone in the industry and end hip-hop. Then, we'll all just go back to listening to "Planet Rock." Party people...yeaaaaaaaah...

- Ian on when you need two gats to go to sleep. I'm with him on this Cam-Jay-Nas thing. And that reminds me...

- *Shakes his head* Oh Pitchfork. Thanks for reminding me why I so rarely read anything on your site. Whether it's the bizarre (what does this even mean? And you're about two years too late), the offensive (which Ghostface fan didn't like "Never Be the Same Again"? Doesn't Dombal know that Ghost put a lot of money up?), or the ridiculous (Murked? Really? Paging Dr. Bol...), the hip-hop "coverage" never fails to disappoint.

OK, now for the fucking realness...

Vote for the best opening:

Voltron


Thundercats


Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles


Challenge of the Super Friends


Jay-Z time: Who you wit'?

Dork Set - 01.24.06

It's going down tonight!

Send Me the Video

Ruben Patterson and rape need to update their respective resumes. There is no such think as the "Kobe Stopper."

I have been searching all over the internets, and I have yet to find the video of the new Vince Carter commercial set to Onyx's "Slam." I need this. And let's be honest: NO league puts out better commercials than the Association. Reason #6,000,000 why the NBA is better than everything else ever.

Oh, and speaking of shooting guards who I can't stand but must begrudgingly acknowledge as great: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? 81 Points?!!!!!!!!!?!?!?!?! Is there even anything to say? Kobe is the best scorer in the league. Period. And this may have been the greatest scoring performance of all time (you know, because he's not one of two or three seven-footers of his era). I don't even know what to think or say beyond that. This is unreal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I mean, not only is it amazing in and of itself, but it makes you seriously think that maybe he can hit for 100. No joke. I didn't think I'd ever think that. And that's absolutely insane. In a good way.

And now, cue Bill Simmons: I doubt we make it to the end of Tuesday without 3,000 words from Bill Simmons about how great it was for him, as one of the twenty NBA fans and as a guy who had season tickets to the Celtics and as a guy who watches a lot of basketball and as a guy who loves gambling, to see Kobe score so many points. Maybe tonight was even the unveiling of a new face. Who knows?

Oh, and poor Kwame Brown: He actually grabbed 10 boards in this game. Now that's a story. LOL.

Watch it here (and sorry for the crappy quality):

Music for a Monday

This is completely absurd. In a really, really, really good way. (Thanks, Spine.)

From the new Kay Slay tape:

- Cam'ron, "Oh What a Night"
So Ian beat me to this track (nicely done, sir), but this is basically more of the same hip-hop tomfoolery that I was laughing my ass off about a few weeks ago. Four Seasons?! How is this dude running his mouth about sandals and Beyonce when he wears purple, dates Juelz, and samples the Four Seasons? Cam is hilarious, and I like a bunch of his music, but come on. He kinda clowns himself sometimes.

- Raekwon, "Curious"
All the ladies, all the ladies, all the ladies in the house go...

Oh, and LSG just spent its residual check. Thank you, Chef.

- Busta Rhymes, Papoose, and Raekwon, "Address Me as Mister (Remix)"
Assonance, assonance, and assonance! Papoose is just unreal (even if he does need to switch up his voice sometimes). Busta Rhymes needs to be not famous anymore five years ago.

- DMX, "Clap On"
Apparently, DMX is still alive. And apparently Swizz Beats still thinks that the looped background echo/chant thing is important to include in as many songs as possible. Sadly, I don't think anyone really cares about any of this. *Sigh*

That's us, that New York City Dork Gang:
So at this point, if you're not reading Dork Magazine, you're dancing with the cousin of death. If it's not a fresh artist, a music review, a culture tip, or an ill interview, it's a dope-ass event somewhere in New York. The next one pops off tomorrow, Tuesday, at Opus 22. Peep the info and come through. The music will be bumpin'; the people will be real; and there won't be a cover.

Cam'ron's Top 5 Reasons to Hate Peyton Manning

Peyton had some time to kill this weekend during his annual late-January vacation

OK, first off, you a bitch, Peyton. Only reasons I'm doin' this--I'ma just name five reasons real quick. Got a hundred-fifty; got a hundred-fifty...

First, you stole the best statistics from Dan.

Second, you stole the title of "choker" from Dan.

Third, you stole the quick release from Dan.

Fourth, I seen an official throw that "UT" up before that interception was overturned.

Fifth--hold on, turn the beat off...

I had to turn the beat off for this: You talkin' 'bout you a team leader. You 3-6 in the playoffs; you been choking since 1994; and I open the Daily News--how's the "Best Quarterback in the League" rockin' sandals with jeans? Open-toed sandals, w--chancletas, with jeans on. How's the "Best Quaterback in the League" rockin' sandals with jeans and he been chokin' for twelve years?

Back to business...


Lookin' like Joe Camel in these open-toed sandals...

Summer Jam Screen Heating Up?

VS.
Guns is drawn

Alright, it's January 20th. Hot 97's Summer Jam 2006 is roughly five months away. We need someone to be the next contestant on the big screen. Who's it gonna be? Can they make this last five more months? (My bet is yes, because the Dips are spiteful and gutter like that.)

What am I talking about? Only the bestest and greatestest news ever. Well, great news for those of you who love rap beef: another high-profile feud is on and motherfuckin' poppin'. And this time, it might actually be personal (as opposed to purely business). Or, maybe it's just gonna help Killa Season move units. *Shrug* I don't know; it's probably definitely both.

Cam'ron and Jay-Z are finally having at it, and it could be, if nothing else, educational. I mean, Jay stabbed Lance Rivera over Charli Baltimore? I don't remember that part of the story, although maybe I just forgot. Yeah, I forgot. But the point remains: we'll get some shit aired out. And honestly, it might even be fun since Cam was already crazy (in every way, really) and now he's got authentic animosity to fuel his flow. As for Jay, maybe this will rouse him out of self-imposed, marketing-gimmick "retirement"; he's probably already in the studio working on something he can debut the next time he drops by Hot 97 for his usual blowjob. Maybe it will even get him focused or hyped or whatever enough to make a "comeback" album.

Oh, and re: Def Jam artist, Dip Set member, and Cam'ron son Juelz Santana--what's your career trajectory looking like now, dunny?

As you might expect, the internets are aflutter over the latest hip-hop controversy. I don't have the stomach to check out what the hipster-set hip-hop bloggers have to say about this--they're probably re-enacting showdowns in the bathtub using their Dip Set action figures or buying vests to wear to their next celebration of condescension--but some of the well-respected heads have come through. Peep Nastack and Nah Right for all of your beef needs--background, links, and, of course, MUSIC. Actually...

You know I'm not one to pass up traffic: Cam, Cam'ron, Jay-Z, Killa Season, beef, Hot 97, war, calls out, sandals, Beyonce, download, free, audio.

- Cam'ron, "You Gotta Love It"
- Cam'ron, "Jay-Z Not a Writer"

P.S. Remember what we were doing around this time last year? I'll take this one over those.

The Hits Just Keep on Coming

You traded your soul for riches...You a fan, a phony, a fake...a Tae-Bo ho

- From the "Eminem Murdered You on Your Own Shit" Department: I really liked this part of DJ Gallo's Page 2 column this week:

"3. Yes, we saw the Peyton Manning Face again, but we also spotted the rebirth of a much rarer face: the Bill Belichick Face. Although residents of Cleveland know that face quite well. (Hey, if it's OK to say Pete Carroll isn't a good coach because of his failings with the Jets and Patriots, it makes just as much sense to say Belichick isn't either due to his far worse results with the Browns.) In fairness though, the Belichick Face doesn't look that much different than the one he shows when the Patriots win the Super Bowl, mainly because he seems able to crush all joy associated with even the greatest accomplishments. It's a mark of the great ones. And the clinically depressed ones." (Emphasis added.)

Thank you, fucking Jesus! If you can't stand the Sports Guy, you read that and said something similar to what I just wrote. The bolded portion is great in and of itself, but the fact that someone took the entire Simmons gimmick and punked him with it while also making fun of Bill Belichick and the NFL's sacred-cow system (Belichick, Favre, Manning)--well, it almost defies praise because it's just that satisfying on so many levels. Given the seemingly impossible feat that Bill Simmons is pulling off with his More Cowbell feature this week--namely, finding a way to become even more self-involved--in the wake of the Isiah Thomas threat (which, I admit, is pretty awesome and worthy of some examination), I can only imagine what might ensue now that someone has had the temerity to not only insult Simmons, but to do it on his own puke-yellow turf. (And by the way, haven't people like Ian and Gerard been saying this stuff for a while?)

Related: Patriots' 2006 Victory Parade Sparsely Attended

- Peep game: Nah Right.

- Peep game: Spliff Huxtable.

- Peep game: Tuberaider, a new site and great idea from JSmooth. Great look.

- Here's proof that the SNL "Lazy Sunday" thing is too pervasive: Two little kids have made their own bootleg version of the song. Download it here.

Ballin'

Are the Davises the bizarro Christies?

When you maintain an interweb like this one--that is, a general-interest site devoid of dedication to a single topic or area--some of your everyday routine falls out of the blogging rotation because, well, who really wants to read about what you ate for dinner and how many old people you wanted to exterminate on the subway?

Sadly, that's kinda been the case with the NBA so far this season. Not a day goes by during which I don't watch basketball, but you don't care. No one wants me to escort him or her through the box scores or relay my impressions of the Bulls-Grizzlies first quarter. Right? The obvious response is probably: So? This is your site; do watcha like. I get that, but I also think that the best thing about blogging is that it is, in effect, a running dialogue. And given the diverse constituencies that I happily welcome to the Bangin'--my friends from college, who like it when I make fun of things like television; my friends from the interwebs, who like it when I make fun of idiot rappers; my family, who like it when I make fun of anything because, well, they have to; and so on--I try to keep things varied.

But for now, the non-NBA heads get a middle finger (just like Phife used to give to punk MCs). Sorry.

- Is it fair to say that anyone who tries to draw multiple comparisons between what Ron Artest did and what Antonio Davis did is a complete moron? As Randy from Real World: San Diego would say (incorrectly), "That's tomfoolery!" In both instances, someone left the floor and went into the stands. That's it. There was no malice intended last night; there was no donnybrook. Also, aside from the shock of seeing a guy leave the court (which happened more than once last night), was there anything so wild about what went on? It was odd, but I didn't find it resonant. There weren't players running into the stands as though they'd been waiting for the opportunity to throw fists and play tough guy (*cough* Stephen Jackson *cough*).

Marty Burns thinks that top-five-Jew-of-all-time David Stern got it right with a five-game suspension. And you'll never believe this, but Scoop Jackson managed to write something melodramatic and mostly annoying.

And by the way, isn't it sad that Doug Christie had to retire? Jackie Christie could have used this new precedent to her bizarro advantage. I wonder if some team will sign her just to have around. I'd pay for that.

- Remember when I posted this? Well, I watched another video of Shawn Kemp and am now convinced that he was the best in-game dunker of all time. Who was better? (And all praise to Idle at Work for spotting this latest video.)

- Wanna see Shaq pwned, kinda? Clickity click.

- Jack McCallum posted an early draft of what could be the next Team USA. Check out the second page, the one on which Lamar Odom's candidacy is discussed. Like everyone else, I was disappointed by the last "Dream Team," but I thought that Odom was a revelation. His rebounding and agility in the post were among the few positives from that team. I'd be happy if he played again.

- I'm not gonna pretend like I know what it do down in Houston since: a) I haven't been down there; and, b) I don't like most of the music that has recently come from there and held my cultural milieu hostage while causing hip-hop Stockholm syndrome to set in, but I feel pretty good saying that they don't watch the same basketball games that I do. How else to explain this?

"And all those perfect parts from last season's playoff run? They're showing more imperfections every day.

Barely seven months ago the Rockets enjoyed playoff games when Ryan Bowen was keeping Dirk Nowtizki (sic) in check, David Wesley was a fine fit, Mutombo plugged Yao's minutes beautifully and Jon Barry knocked down shots so fluidly." (Emphasis added.)

I think there's a term for this. It's "revisionist history." Ryan Bowen wasn't keeping The Diggler in check. That was TMac. And not only that, but Ryan Bowen was far from a perfect part last season; people were calling out his uselessness in real time. Anyone that writes something like that which is excerpted and placed in bold above should be ashamed.

- Here are Marty Burns's NBA all stars. And here are mine (starters in bold):
Eastern Conference: Billups, Wyade, James, Bosh, J. O'Neal, Iverson, Hamilton, Arenas, Redd, V. Carter, Pierce, B. Wallace
Western Conference: Nash, Bryant, Nowitzki, Brand, Duncan, Parker, B. Davis, Paul Marion, Garnett, Gasol, Camby

That's the ballot that I'd fill out. I try to just factor in production and exclude things like won-loss records and innate physical talent. I'm not voting for MVP; I'm voting for which players have played the best this year. Winning is one way to measure a player's quality, but it's just one way. No one is clamoring that the East should be represented by the Pistons, and no one is freaking out that Iverson would be included even while his team is below .500. And yeah, TMac should be on the team in the abstract, but this year, he's been hurt. Trust me, this is killing me; I can't believe I had to write what I wrote without McGrady. But rules are rules.

How Do You People Sleep at Night?

If only he were as honorable and trustworthy as a good Christian like George W. Bush...

I used to write about politics a lot on this site. Amidst the basketball-and-hip-hop delirium, there was content befitting one who spent most of his academic time in college studying political science. (The non-academic time was spent in a manner one might assume: cursing Lloyd Carr; making fun of rappers; and praying that Isiah Thomas would contract some kind of incurable disease.) In the political halcyon days, there were the righteous ruminations of a proud urbanist who remains convinced that no single policy more influentially set our country down the self-destructive path it has followed than the Federal Housing Administration; the rebellious rants of a liberal beyond the mainstream who could do nothing but seek catharsis as his frustration grew incrementally each day as he read the newspaper; the rhetorical ramblings of a whimsical romantic who often sought some vestige of the theoretically superior economic-political order that his nation had long championed, even as it was heretically betrayed through actions that belied the rhetoric.

But those days ended some time ago. It is simply too difficult, too hurtful to devote so much time to circumstances that seem so hopeless and beyond my control. America is a nation of political apathy, one populated by far too many people who, for whatever reasons, happily neglect the circumspection and the intellectual industry required of a healthy democracy. If a civilization's fortunes can be plotted as a bell curve, it seems to me--as the Constitution is torn up piece by piece and the American ideology is eroded by the rising tide of hypocrisy and the melancholy treachery of human nature--that we are on the wrong side of ours, and it is sloping ever downward.

Following politics is rotten. It has been for some time, but never has it been more challenging than during the reign of the retrograde, myopic, and pernicious Bush Administration. I couldn't help but sadly acknowledge this reality as I read a speech that Al Gore delivered on Monday as the country stopped to honor Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

The text of that speech can be found here.

Have you read it? Yes? Good. If not, please find some time to do so. Why? Well, it might help you recall what you were taught in civics classes: truths that are now sadly rendered fiction, discarded on the top of history's trash heap. The United States is a nation currently ruled by people who have no compassion for the neediest citizens; no respect for the rule of law; and no regard for the American ideals which comprise our national creed. Nothing is more unpatriotic than this vainglorious treason, and yet were you to challenge what is, in effect, the elected oligarchy, you would be denounced as a traitor.

In 2000, when Al Gore was running for office, he was ridiculed as a soporific intellectual; as an uncharismatic bore; as an amoral presidential sidekick; as an incompetent whose primary ideas were indistinguishable from the vapidity dressed up in bells and whistles that George Bush was offering. As you go to sleep tonight or tomorrow in a country that will soon all but abolish legalized abortion; in a country that will continue to fight for the right to torture anyone whom it deems deserving; in a country that will allow its president to spy on you without cause; in a country that will snatch away legal protections that have long balanced the power in the criminal-justice system; in a country that will happily neglect its schools; in a country that will stubbornly destroy the planet; in a country that will readily embrace public religion, please ask yourself if those jokes equating Bush and Gore are still so funny. And if you're one of the people who were laughing, shame on you.

Music for a Monday

How many concerts have started with, "And it weighs a ton"? Like, 600? 6,000?

I spotted some joints on Spine that I thought deserved some mention:

- Nas ft. Papoose and Blitz, "Across the Tracks"
Nas's verse on this is pretty much a throwaway, isn't it? He kind of takes stock of his life and does some boasting. Big shit.

But I'm more interested in Papoose. What is the general perception of Papoose? I hear and read some people dismiss him as just another New York mixtape rapper destined to go the route of Jae Millz et al. while others think his lyrical skills merit admiration. I like Papoose. The dude spits an assonant flow better than any new artists I've heard in recent years; he seems fairly intelligent; he usually has something to say; and his mic persona is one of incredible energy. On top of that, he flips more than his fair share of metaphors, his verses often demanding more than one listen just to catch everything. My biggest criticism is that his flow is mostly the same, savage bombast track after track, so it can get tedious.

This beat is fair--it suits the verses, but the ascending horn riff gives a meandering track this odd, incongruous urgency. It would work better if all of the verses were a little longer and a little more substantive. Overall, it's somewhat memorable without being especially thrilling, and odd and disappointing combination.

- The Roots, "Please Don't Go" (demo)
Speaking of repetitive flows...Ladies and gentlemen, bienvenue to the Roots!

Look, I am an unabashed Roots lover. Organix, Dou You Want More?!!!??!, Illadelph Halflife, Things Fall Apart--I will listen to those records forever. And I basically learned to love concerts thanks to the Roots. I even liked Phrenology a lot despite all of its obvious shortcomings. But Jesus Fucking Christ, they might now be engineering the greatest fall off of all time. I mean, this is a Shawn Kemp-level decline; this is like post-lockout syndrome writ large in a hip-hop context. My god! It's been all downhill since, roughly, "Water," hasn't it? The last third of Phrenology was a disaster; I shall not even invoke the name of their most recent joint, The Record of Which We Do Not Speak; their painful (though understandable--people gotta eat) attempt to grab a mainstream audience with singles like "Don't Say Nothin'" has been embarrassing and humiliating for everyone involved, the band and its fans; and the live show has devolved into what the Roots always could have been at their worst. Remember the concert in June? And remember what we all said?

Well it gets no better with this boring, mechanical studio cut. I know this is only a demo, and that it will get all gussied up by ?uestlove and his production brain trust, but who cares? This sounds like something that would have gone on The Record of Which We Do Not Speak--the wa-chicka guitar; the dulcet synthesizer tones; the busy background percussion; the throwback vocal inserts. We've broken this ground before, and it wasn't exciting back then.

BT's flow is always unrelenting, and the guy's references and image rolodex are fantastic, but this is such a crappy love song that it makes no difference here. Because the Roots are the Roots--that is, musicians who really understand their craft and put so much effort into it--no track is ever unlistenable, but is anyone hearing this and getting excited? Are you even thinking about it once it's over?

Please, please, PLEASE go back to making hip-hop records. The modern-day jam-band hip-hop isn't really working on record. This is almost as bad as seeing Michael on the Wizards.

- Craig Mack, "You and Me"
What does Craig Mack do all day? Does he work at a J. Crew somewhere? Is he a management consultant? A lawyer? Unemployed? The dude's gotta pay rent. He put out Funk Da World in 1994, Operation: Get Down in 1997, and now he shows up on compilations and remixes every few years, reminding us that his charisma and adlibs are crazy and that he should have been making records this whole time. I mean, you haven't forgotten the "Special Delivery" remix, right? You know, the lunatics-no-so-anonymous meeting on wax with Ghostface, Keith Murray, and Craig Mack? Remember Craig coming on the track with "Ay yo, you must wanna be in the Guinness Book of World Records as the dumbest motherfucker alive"? Why isn't there more of that in hip-hop? Nothing else is poppin' off at Bad Boy. Fuck, a record with Craig Mack and Miami from Da Band would be one of the funniest things ever created by humans.

Sadly, this track is more sedate, but the thunderous voice that commands attention is still intact. I don't really know that the Gwen Stefani vocals are working, but the looped melody is good enough. Byoy-ee.

And also...

- Aceyalone, "Fire"

- Ne-Yo, "So Sick" (stream)
I know you've heard this, and you've probably "bought" it on the internets, but just in case not: here's every thug's favorite guilty-pleasure R&B pop. I hate this song.

Sundry

- My man Reef has been killin' it. Like, slayin' stuff worse than Kobe in a Colorado spa. The dude should write about hip-hop more often, because when he does, he gets it right. I always forget how much I like the early Mobb Deep. The last few albums haven't done much for me, but those first two records were perfect examples of the mid-90s New York gutter rap that douches like 50 have since stolen and ruined.

- Peep game: On Some Behind the Back Ish

- I couldn't tell. Was this a good Klosterman piece? (And is "good Klosterman piece" an oxymoron?) Morrison holds the ball and shoots like Bird. It's not just because he's white.

- My debut album is coming out on Block M records. Jyeah!

- Going to Yale must be awesome, condescending fun. This made me sick, literally.

Best Day of the Season

Dave Campo is on the phone...

There are few things about which I am not somewhat ambivalent, but Peyton Manning losing is one of them. In what has become an annual event to which you can set your watch, Peyton went out of the playoffs today. This was the Colts' year. I've never had a harder time not smiling. Campo, Wannstedt, and Manning--I revel in their failures.

P.S. Nick Harper's wife is the gulliest person in the NFL.

P.P.S. Am I the only person who finds this to be really, really weak? I mean, did Carroll also arrange for the Texans to buy Bush all of his diapers for the first year? What happened to big, bad, unstoppable Reggie Bush? Oh yeah, the Rose Bowl.

Life Sometimes Intervenes

(Insert Public Enemy line about hype here)

Work, concerts, social engagements (you know, like dinners during which you have to explain the code of the streets to inquiring co-workers who don't know what "snitching" means)--shit adds up and sometimes blogs suffer. I'll be back like Caitlin Cooper tomorrow. That is, until I have to bounce to see Slum Fucking Village at 11 fucking 30 at night. What is that?

Real quick: Props to Brown DMC for getting the Brickers five straight wins; Sa-Ra might have more undeserved hype than anyone since, like, Diplo or M.I.A. (shouts to Ian on that one); Samuel Alito is a lightweight; Britney Spears is nastier than ever; I was gonna write about how concerning the Pistons' defense has been and then they went and fucked some shit up in San Antonio; and South Beach is the new North Shore, and that is a very, very good thing.

Cam Loves the 80s...Strikes Back!

Golly he's gul--who fucking says "golly," anyway?!

I am just gonna put this out there: Nothing--not...one...motherfucking...thing--is funnier than the fact that the dude pictured above is both a king of the streets and the most sacrosanct rapper among the condescending hipsters of the world when they want to indulge in something cute and black like hip-hop.

Why am I writing this today? Listen:

- Cam'ron ft. J.R. Writer, "I'll See You in My Dreams"

Yeah, so? It's just another chipmunked rock sample from the Dip Set. And?

And then listen to the track found below knowing that it was written by Dann Huff. Who the fuck is Dann Huff? This dude:

Dann is a studio-session musician and producer who formed late-80s arena-rock group Giant after failing as a Christian rocker with the group White Heart. In addition to writing rock songs about Jesus, Dann has collabo'd with some of the gulliest artists of all time: Amy Grant, Michael Jackson, Shania Twain, and Michael Smith. That's as hood as hood gets. If you've heard of Giant, here's why:

- Giant, "I'll See You in My Dreams"

Now, I am not fronting on Cam'ron or anyone who likes him, because, well, I do too. And I'm not saying that Cam is soft or anything like that. I mean, he threw a Fat Joe vocal at the opening of his track and he dances around in purple. That's straight gutterific. I'm just saying that, well, he seeks inspiration in the musical failure of some Jesus freak. Take that for what it is. Personally, I think he was just inconsolable after he heard Juelz's "Oh Yes" and realized that the bar for the cheesiest sample possible had been significantly raised.

P.S. Should we be surprised? Hip-hop loves the 80s. We know this.
P.P.S. Is it just me, or do the drums sound like, among plenty of other tracks, those on David Banner's "Certified"? I keep waiting for someone to come in a beat too late and shout-whisper "Ay!"

Lots of People Are Funnier Than Me

Probably not a newsflash. Here are two of them: Stacey; Emily.

And here are two more...

From Rafi at Oh Word:


And from Deadspin:


A note about this one--I think it's funny because it's true. Here's the description of the video. Tell me what, if anything, seems inaccurate:

“The Los Angeles Shaker’s star player Tobey Bryan, is in trouble. Tobey Bryan’s Backcourt Violation delves into the sordid life of a rich, powerful sports superstar who craves anal sex as much as he covets another championship ring. When you have a sneaker after you, women tend to be quite accomodating (sic). Blowjobs, threesomes and gangbangs come as easy as a snap of the fingers. … But our booty-banging hero learns that celebrity sex isn’t all fun and games; when he sticks his dick in the wrong tramp all hell breaks loose.”

Facts are facts.

Honey Look, I'm a Monster Don

Hip-hop hath no fury like a Ghostface scorned

You know those really dramatic couples that do shit like throw each other's shit out the window and always have to take their beef into the public arena? One minute they'll be fighting and then the next, they could be swearing that they love each other? There was one down the block from me as a kid. The "wife" or "woman" or how ever we're describing her--she used to show up at this one building across the street and would start hollering at the "husband" or "man" or whatever he was. Is she in there? Fuck you, you piece of shit! Where's my son? They did the whole thing. It was always really depressing and uncomfortable, and I always wondered what the child produced by that relationship was going through.

On TV and in movies, these sorts of couples always live in poor, urban neighborhoods. Sometimes they're white; sometimes they're black; sometimes they're Hispanic. Usually, they're composed of two addicts; or a working girl and her pimp; or two people from around the way who used to be sleeping together; or two social misfits; or some substance-abusing husband and his estranged wife; or whatever. When times are bad, they're really bad--the yelling, the screaming, the fighting. Melodrama like someone putting a gun to his head. When times are good, the sex is constant, the emotion seems intoxicating. You get the drift, right?

Well, in hip-hop, these couples often comprise Ghostface and whomever he's rapping about. Sometimes, you get a track like "Love Sessions" or "Save Me Dear," an exaltation of a female companion who can hold her man down despite his dramatic mood swings and criminality. But other times, whoa--it's the maniacal, shouting-in-the-streets, does-Ghostface-have-to-choke-a-bitch near-hallucinatory reprisals. Witness "Wildflower," "Never Be the Same Again," or now, from Fish Scales, "Back Like That."

This joint is not some over-the-top, graphic verbal killing, so don't get it twisted. But it's the same spiteful, scorned, angered, hurt Ghostface that made "Never Be the Same Again" so appealing. Starks has that energy and sincere flow that makes you think he's capable of anything. That duality--his ability to seem so likable and yet so threatening; his ability to seem so absurd and yet so serious--is part of his appeal. And it's on full display here. Spine has the audio. Only this time, it's set to mid-tempo drums and comes with a pop hook sung by Def Jam singer/songwriter Ne-Yo. It sounds like the sort of track that could be a semi-hit on New York radio. We'll see.

A sampling:

(Intro)
Damn
Damn ma
We ain't even have to go through it like that
It wasn't really even that big, man
You know
No, that's a'ight, though
But anyway, yo, let me get that coat
Let me get those jeans
Let me get that rock on your finger
Oh, it's stuck? Then I'll take the whole finger then, man
Let me get those bags from Paris
And the puppies is stayin', yo

(Chorus)
Come through the block in your brand new Benz
Knowin' that me and that ni**a ain't friends
OK girl
Yo what I did was wack
But you don't get ni**a back like that
Flossin' around when I'm up in these streets
Knowin' that me and that ni**a got beef
OK girl
Yo, what I did was wack
But you don't get a ni**a back like that

(Verse)
...Fuckin' with him could bring bodily harm
And where you gon' hide in the streets when the body is gone?
If there's one thing I learned that
Never trust a female on no scale
You just confirmed that
Bounce to ya mama house
Pack yo' shit
I don't care if you cryin'
You's a ruthless chick
Gots to watch you
These eyeballs in my face will spot you
My girl cousins, they gon' rock you

More music:
- Sergio Mendes ft. Black Thought, Chali 2na, Will.I.Am, Debi Nova, "Yes, Yes Y'all"
I gotta say, I'm starting to get bored with this shit. What else y'all got?

Straight Bangin' Soul
Another Straight Bangin' mixtape...

1) The Bar-Kays, "Soul Finger"
2) Betty Harris, "There's a Break in the Road"
3) Tom Brock, "Nothing in This World"
4) Lou Rawls, "For What It's Worth"
5) Stylus, "Hangin'"
6) Instant Funk, "I Got My Mind Made Up"
7) Charles Wright & the Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band, "What Can You Bring Me"
8) Lionel Richie, "Penny Lover"
9) The O'Jays, "Cry Together"
10) The Dramatics, "Be My Girl"
11) Ann Peebles, "Troubles, Heartaches, and Sadness"
12) Gladys Knight, "The Makings of You"
13) Melvin Bliss, "Synthetic Substitution"
14) Brotherly Love, "I Don't See You in My Eyes Anymore"
15) Eddie Floyde, "Check Me Out"
16) Isley Brothers, "Living for the Love of You"
17) Creative Source, "Pass the Feeling On"
18) The Meters, "Oh, Calcutta!"
19) Sly & the Family Stone, "I Get High on You"
20) Dionne Warwick, "You're Gonna Need Me"

Foul Trouble in Trouble?

Yes, that's Mark Eaton.

"Back in the days, when I was young/I'm not a kid anymore"...and I can tell because basketball has changed. Like, a lot. Like, more than AJ Hawk's jaw line or the coach of the Golden State Warriors.

(A sometimes habit, I might be wrongly conjuring a memory that I think I have stored in my mind. Allowing for that error, I shall proceed, but feel free to let me know if you think I'm off. It doesn't happen often--you know, me being wrong--and it's not like humans even accept that they're wrong when they are, but in this instance, I'll allow for it.)

Among the earliest basketball absolutes that I learned through hours of what was (and let's not front: still is) welcomed compulsory viewing was that a primary objective for a team was to get its opponent's big man or big men in foul trouble. This tactic made a lot of sense to me--it was easiest to beat the Sixers or the Celtics or the Pistons or the Spurs or the Rockets or any other team when the Barkleys, Birds, McHales, Laimbeers, Robinsons, and Olajuwon's of the world were not participating due to foul trouble.

I experienced this supposed truth viscerally: I can still remember the thrill of going to Madison Square Garden as a kid, maybe six- or seven-years-old, and chanting obscenities meant to rile up Charles Barkley as he was frustrated by the Knicks, the crowd, and the referees. Similarly, I sat in front of the television enthralled by the bittersweet tension of high-stakes basketball, simultaneously fearing and welcoming every whistle chirp, as my father and I set up camp in my parents' bedroom or the living room. A Thursday-night showdown between the Pacers and the Bulls; a Sunday-afternoon double-header between the Suns and the Rockets, the Knicks and the Cavaliers--these were important games in which the officiating so often would play a critical role. Fouls on Ewing were calamities; fouls on Doherty were opportunities. If Orlando could only win if Shaq were in the game, it was a big deal when he wasn't because he was making too much contact. The foul was the thing.

This reality informed strategy. At the beginning of games, color analysts would highlight exploiting foul trouble as one of the three keys for a team if it wanted to be successful. And on the court, players would feed the post, sometimes forcing things, hoping that the other team's center would draw two first-quarter fouls and have to sit. If the centers weren't cutting it, teams would drive relentlessly, hoping that guards could punish aggressive, helping big men by drawing fouls (think: Kevin Johnson). Who was gonna win, the Heat or the Knicks? Well often, that was determined by how much Mourning and Ewing could play. It seemed as though teams were always guided, in some part, by a furious focus on getting another team's post contributors in so much foul trouble that they couldn't significantly contribute. And this, too, made a lot of sense--if you could disrupt the other team at both ends by functionally, or on great days actually, disqualifying its big men, why not make that a priority?

All told, foul trouble seems like it used to play a larger role in an NBA game than it does today. Perhaps its significance owed to the basketball of the mid 80s through mid 90s, fairly standard ball executed by players of superlative ability. Yes, there were all-time greats playing in the paint and controlling boards, but that was exactly the point--you needed those things to win. Offenses flowed through the post: If a big man weren't scoring off of a lay-up or a post move, he was drawing a double team and creating open shots. To disrupt a team and eliminate both scoring and strategic advantages, the best thing to do was get the opponent's best post players in foul trouble. And so often, a team's biggest players contributed significantly to its psyche and image.

In fact, throughout NBA history, stellar guards had made indelible impressions, but big men were the foundation of championship teams. Mikan, Russell, Chamberlain, Abdul-Jabbar--these were the men who we associated with the titles their teams won. It's not a coincidence that Oscar Robertson wasn't a champion until Lew Alcindor joined the Bucks. No one talks about the champion Knicks without including Willis Reed. The Celtics of the 80s, though associated with the singular greatness of Larry Bid, are also routinely cited as having possessed the greatest front court of all time. Even big-men champions unfairly washed over by the tide of history--players like Jack Sikma or Wes Unseld--were on teams that looked inside for identity and crucial production.

Really, until Michael Jordan, basketball was still an inside-out game, one in which big men were of special significance. Sure there were incredible guards without whom some of these cherished post players may have less jewelry, but think about some of the great backcourts from recent history: Isiah Thomas and Joe Dumars needed a rugged interior presence to win; In Portland, Kevin Duckworth, Jerome Kersey, and Buck Williams were never enough, despite the presence of Drexler and Porter. Teams were playing traditional styles of basketball, and if you wanted to seize an advantage, you got a big man out of the game with too many fouls.

So what happened? I am not entirely sure, but I know that getting an opposing big man in foul trouble appears to be less of a priority than it used to be. Perhaps some of that owes to the game changing. Among today's elite big men, Kevin Garnett has few post moves, Dirk Nowitzki likes the outside, and someone like Amare Stoudemire would like to run as often as he can. As a result, teams engineer their attacks around these respective talents and may not want to disrupt what they do by shifting the focus to something that is, in some ways, defensive offense. That is, focusing on getting another team in foul touble can seem like tacit admission that you can't succeed unless that condition is met.

Perhaps some of the diminished significance of creating foul trouble for an opponent owes to other changes? On so many teams--the Sixers, the Warriors, the Mavericks, the Bucks, the Wizards, the Nets--the best players are on the perimeter and the big men are asked to do little more than provide some rebounding, some spacing, and some defense. This would indicate that most teams probably don't feel that neutralizing a starting center or power forward would create such a pronounced advantage. I mean, do people worry about Erick Dampier in crunch time?

Or perhaps a team like the Pistons is just happy to get scoring primarily from guard improvisation or set plays designed to yield jumpers to players in positions from which they feel they can succeed. Rasheed Wallace could be a great post player were some coach asking him to keep his ass in the paint. But usually, coaches don't. And maybe that means most just like to run their own stuff and hope that it's good enough.

I am not suggesting that foul trouble has gone the way of Mike Dunleavy as potential franchise player--it's still credible. And it's still important. Nor am I suggesting that teams of yore all relied on lumbering big men while those of today would like to start five guys who were 6'6". Rather, I just wonder where foul touble has gone as a strategic goal, and why it has gone to this place of decreased significance. I can't watch Tim Duncan killing someone in the fourth quarter or Shaq getting his second personal foul with seven minutes left and not wonder why more teams aren't trying to attack these dudes.

Oh, Is That The Shit You Runnin' With?

Peep game: Oh Word. Site's effing good.

Bill Simmons, the Annoying, Cheesy Uncle You Never Had

Other writers might make you angrier, but does anyone make you cringe more often?

I don't have time to post today, but fucking shit, are you kidding me: Simmons wrote about the Rose Bowl? What, a complete idiot wasn't available so they had to find someone who simply acts and writes like one when it comes to college football? Can this guy do anything more grating and embarrassing?

Actually, yes. Here's an idea: why not send Simmons out to cover signing day next month so we can get inanity like, "My favorite signing is Orlando (FL) Edgewater WR Greg Mathews going to Michigan. Here's a kid who could have stayed at home and gone to a school like Miami, where he would have been like the Tubbs to Kyle Wright's Crockett, but instead he's going to a place where the best he can do is be like a less-funny Axel Foley. And you know he's gonna be cold. In fact, I can't wait until the second weekend in November when Mathews is standing on the sidelines, breaking in the new 'I Didn't Realize It Was This Cold' Greg Mathews face. I think we're all excited about this. One day, when I'm running ESPN 8, we'll have entire programming blocks dedicated to the greatest faces in the history of bad college choices. I love college signing day; you can't make this stuff up."

Please, ESPN, just start televising the functional equivalent of cyanide and end it. I can't take this anymore. And I'm not alone.

Hold Up, Mr. Spacek

Biter? Writer? Penis Mightier?

Thanks to my man Ian, I was able to check out Steve Spacek's "Dollar$" (click for link to download). And let's be honest: the song is hot. But if you're a Justus League fan, you probably should have heard it and said, "Um...hold up." The beat is not new. It's a 9th Wonder mixtape joint that appeared on those underground JL tapes both as an instrumental (Vol. II) and as the background for Panama Gat's "Dollars Circulate" (Vol. IX). Spacek has enhanced it, chopping the sample and making a steady bass line more prominent. But still, this track was essentially someone else's idea.

On Spacek's MySpace page, he lists 9th as an influence, so perhaps the beat was used with Mr. Wonder's blessing. Perhaps 9th even re-engineered the track for or in consultation with Spacek. (Can anyone tell me?) But still, I'm sayin'...

- 9th Wonder, "Dollars Circulate Instrumental"

- Panama Gat, "Dollars Circulate"

Ciara at the Orange Bowl:

Math heads: What's the first derivative of Aaliyah?

Hey, Aaliyah called--she wants her clothes, hair, dance moves, and style back.

The No Homo Manifesto?

If you're a rapper, don't lend this man your jacket.

I don't think it's news to anyone to read that, along with those fostered inside your local fraternity house and elementary-school locker room, the hip-hop community remains one of the most homophobic communities that you can find. At least, overtly. That might seem a little unfair, but what other groups felt compelled to create and widely implement verbal punctuation? You don't hear rabbis or bank tellers or any other diverse groups of people running around yelling "No homo!" Not even NAMBLA. (Er, wait; bad example.) Sure there are homophobes everywhere, and yes, plenty of hip-hop heads are not afflicted by homophobia, but it's not a good thing when DMX can say something like "I show no love/To homo thugs" and sound really trite and derivative. It probably means that hip-hop has a problem. And because so many are always so quick to shout out "no homo," you have to think that some of the intolerance owes to some self-loathing, or at least ambivalence.

As a result, you'd also think that someone decidedly ignorant hip-hop, like 50 Cent, would have written the definitive No Homo Manifesto. But guess what? It was actually written by some bald, white, Jewish, semi-retired guy: Larry David.

My man James pointed out this article to me over the weekend. Here's a sampling:

"Somebody had to write this, and it might as well be me. I haven't seen 'Brokeback Mountain,' nor do I have any intention of seeing it. In fact, cowboys would have to lasso me, drag me into the theater and tie me to the seat, and even then I would make every effort to close my eyes and cover my ears..."

"If two cowboys, male icons who are 100 percent all-man, can succumb, what chance to do I have, half- to a quarter of a man, depending on whom I'm with at the time? I'm a very susceptible person, easily influenced, a natural-born follower with no sales-resistance. When I walk into a store, clerks wrestle one another trying to get to me first. My wife won't let me watch infomercials because of all the junk I've ordered that's now piled up in the garage. My medicine cabinet is filled with vitamins and bald cures.

"So who's to say I won't become enamored with the whole gay business? Let's face it, there is some appeal there. I know I've always gotten along great with men. I never once paced in my room rehearsing what to say before asking a guy if he wanted to go to the movies. And I generally don't pay for men, which of course is their most appealing attribute."

Jim Jones couldn't have put it better.

Peep Some Game

As usual, New York was overrun with visitors during the holiday, and I had my share. I'm still getting my life sorted out (lots of work, mild amount of illness, woefully inadequate sleep), so in the mean time, peep a little game:

- Sweaty Men Endeavors

- The M Zone

And Schembechler Hall is poppin' off, as usual. Please check it out and leave me some comments over there. I live for the self-created anxiety I tease out of myself each day as I agonize over the plight of Michigan football and basketball.

Too Much Mileage

Honestly, have sports broadcasters and writers ever seen a woman who was actually attractive?

I guess when your boyfriend's jaw line has undergone a significant change in the last four years and his forehead looks like it could bust open at any time, you can seem kind of worn out and skanky* and still be the better looking of the two.

Yeah, that's right: I'm a bitter Michigan grad.

*And when I say "skanky," I mean that adjective form of "skank," the word that my roommate's mother used when she called to ask, "Who is that skank?!"