Hello, Z-Bo?

Already dressing like a New Yorker. A gay, anti-environment New Yorker. Nice.

Much to my dismay--because he used to be a Select List staple--Steve Francis had come to symbolize a large portion of what's gone wrong in New York under Isiah Thomas. Francis had a big contract that he didn't deserve. He was hurt a lot. When he wasn't hurt he just wasn't very good. He feuded with Larry Brown (not that it's difficult). And he, like a lot of Knicks, was pretty pissed off about being a Knick or about playing time or about having to know other Knicks or something.

So when he got traded last night, I was elated. That he netted New York a big man who scores and rebounds was even better. He even helped to escort out Channing Frye, something I'd requested. I was so overcome that I called Henry, a Portland guy. (And you can basically say anything you want to Portland fans on draft night now that the Blazers run the entire event.)

I was still really excited as I settled in for the evening.

But then I started watching TV and thinking about the Knicks. And then I started assembling next year's starting lineup. And then I suddenly realized that with Eddy Curry and Z-Bo and Stephon and Jamal Crawford and whomever else, the Knicks still won't play much defense. And then I was scared as I considered that they still won't block shots. And then I realized that the Bricks now owe Z-Bo $61 million guaranteed dollars even if he has a death in the family and spends 6 months at the Hustler Club along the West Side Highway while recovering.

And then it wasn't so great anymore. So I needed to make a list to figure out my attitude, because I was suddenly feeling the way I do on fall Saturdays when Michigan has completely outplayed an opponent but only leads by 7 at halftime. It was the fool's-gold, other-shoe-about-to-drop feeling. So...

Pros:
- Inside scoring with the ability to step out to the midrange.
- Rebounding (this one may count as two entries in this column)
- No more minutes wasted on developing a soft 7-footer who can't bang
- No more firsthand witnessing of the depressing decline of Stevie Franchise
- Darius Miles is only on the schedule twice and is otherwise 3,000 miles away
- Gully quotient increases significantly

Cons:
- Not teh good at defense or blocking shots
- Quasi-redundant--a lot like Eddy Curry
- Lots of strip clubs near funeral homes in New York
- Hard to place faith in someone whose college's best cheer is easily and deservedly turned into "Can't read, can't write" or "Smoke green, snort white."
- Not really much cap relief
- Initially felt like too good of a thing.

So there it is: I am strongly ambivalent. Any other thoughts?

I'll get more up about the Draft this weekend, but let me also say: 1) I wanted Derrick Byars; 2) Why, why, WHY did Milwaukee draft Yi?! That was horrible.

Shame on Me

Won't be in Boston. Thankfully.

I desperately wanted to write about the NBA and its draft this week, but my life interfered and now we've arrived at Thursday. Motherfucker. It's a bummer because I had incredibly important things to say. Things like...

...The Hawks are dumb if they don't take Mike Conley, who can already get into the lane at will and loves crunch time.

...I can't pass judgment on Yi since I haven't seen him play a real game, but I don't think most other people have, either. And were I a GM, my rule would be that I only pick guys whom I've seen play in real competition at least 15 times. It would potentially preclude me selecting Dirk Nowitzki, but it might also mean that I opt for a Paul Millsap or Marcus Williams before rolling the dice on Saer Sene. But that's just me.

...The Suns shouldn't trade Amare Stoudemire. Just do not do it. I can be persuaded about Shawn Marion, although I don't think that's a gimme. I love me some Kevin Garnett, but is it possible that the Matrix has a skill set more compatible with the Phoenix style? Your boy Kevin likes to have the ball in his hands as he makes jab steps on the perimeter or whirls his way to the basket. Dallas didn't win titles with Nash passing to guys--Finley and Dirk held the ball a lot--who played that way. I'm just saying.

...The Suns should trade Marion if he's leaving after next year anyway. And though I think that would be a mistake, anyone who's read :07 Seconds or Less could surely foresee it happening. Dude wants to be le Man.

...Kudos to Michael Wilbon for calling out a veritable truth that doesn't get discussed enough: black athletes don't want to go to Boston. And it's understandable. If I were a black basketball player, I definitely wouldn't want to go. No matter what I did--like, say, win 11 titles in 13 years--I'd never be Larry Bird. And worse, I'd never be on the Red Sox. You may have heard of the Red Sox. They were the last Major League team to integrate. To be fair, I would meet a lot of scorpion-bowl-drinking women at Hong Kong.

...This draft is deep on talent, but after Oden, Durant, Conley, and maybe Horford and Thornton, there are a lot of players whom I'd rather draft at 15 or 16 than 5 or 6. Green, Noah, Law, Courtney Sims (just kidding)--these are guys who will have good careers, but they don't scream "surefire all-star" or "franchise cornerstone."

...Vince Carter getting $60m or more for four years from New Jersey is ridiculous. He's an inconsistent shooter. He's moody. He takes the ball out of Jason Kidd's hands in crunch time, which makes no sense to me. I just think the VC era is over. He can still play, but his time has already passed us by.

...Kobe Bryant's saga is almost beyond description. I don't even have coherent thoughts about KB24. Pairing him with KG is intriguing, although I don't think it assures a title. Sending him to Chicago is intriguing, although I don't think it assures a title. I am tabling any offerings of a definitive opinion (which I ultimately must, since this is a blog, after all) and reserve the right to do so at a later date.

...I'd like for Milwaukee to trade Andrew Bogut and come away from the draft with either Noah or Julian Wright (one of my favorite players to watch) and a contributor or a pick for Bogut. Could they get Noah or Wright and Acie Law if they dealt Bogut for Law at some point? If that happened, I am pretty sure that Milwaukee would instantly become my fourth-favorite team (behind the Knicks, whomever Tracy McGrady plays for, and Detroit), and it would have a chance to move up to #3 since the Pistons are disintegrating and I advocate for that roster's destruction. The Bucks would have Michael Redd, my man, both in the real world and in fantasy basketball; Charlie Villanueva, a UConn dude, so you know I'm riding with him; some interior defense all of a sudden; and Acie, another one of my three or four favorite kids from college. The Bucks would also have three guys (Redd, Williams, Law) who are not afraid to shoot in a close game. And, they'd be ever more hardbody with Noah or Wright blocking shots and Law pressuring on the perimeter. Please, God, let this happen.

...Notice how there's been precious little NBA talk around here for about a month? Well, that's what happens with you study for the LSAT and the NBA playoffs fall apart after the second round. Consider me among the many who was underwhelmed by the Finals. And among the plurality who appreciate LeBron James but don't find him exciting.

...Detroit needs to keep Tayshaun, Rip, Tony Dice, and Maxiell and blow the rest up. Chauncey isn't worth more than $10m per year for anything beyond three or four seasons, and everyone else should be house hunting. I love Roscoe, but his time is up, too. The way he melted down and just about quit in the Eastern Conference Finals was shameful, and killed any chance of the Finals being interesting.

...Brandan Wright should still be in college.

...The Knicks, as usual, need help. Send checks, food stamps, flowers, cards--whatever you can muster. We're getting there, but the Promised Land is still a long way off: Don't buy the bullshit that Eddy Curry is a franchise big man because he scores a lot. He remains a bad rebounder and a worse defender. You don't win titles with big men like that. Plus, we still have Franchise and Starbury contracts; we've got overpaid Jared Jeffries and Jerome James; we've got softer-than-Namond Channing Frye; we've got non-entity Malik Rose; and worst of all, we're still stuck with too-gully-for-his-own-good Nate Robinson, the most detestable Knick in some years. That's not a team; that's a cautionary case study. Give me Jamal Crawford, David Lee, Q Richardson, Randolph Morris (you never know), a coaching vacancy, a new GM, cap space, and Alando Tucker. We'll go from there. (And I write "we" because...well, if you read this blog, you know.)

...It's not sexy but it's right: Greg Oden, #1. I'll root for the Sonics, too. Like everyone else.

When Does This Drop?

I ask because I will need to take time off from work.

T.I. vs. T.I.P., and No One Wins

Wearing a suit doesn't make him Denzel anymore than this record makes him great.

Of the bloggers whom I've met or those whose sites I read on a consistent basis, Ian has always been among my favorites (no Alby Grant). Were the congruence of our political ideology and his familiar sensibilities not enough, I've also long admired his attitude toward rap music. Whereas I can't help but insist upon the genre's decline to the point that I almost resent the success of so many newjack practitioners, Ian instead hears new, exciting MCs and styles while challenging some of the legacy orthodoxies that may, in fact, no longer make sense or command the consensus they're afforded. That's not to say that my man has eschewed De La Soul for Choppa, but rather, he finds Little Brother staid and T.I. impressive, two attitudes that I don't share.

Our divergence was hammered home this weekend when I was challenged to name southerners whose rap stylings I genuinely enjoy, and I was left to extol Scarface, OutKast, Goodie Mob, and the limited few others one might expect a New York enthusiast to summon. Toward the end of high school and through my first year of college, I was fairly certain that Juvenile was my dude, but the archetypal excellence of 400 Degreez proved to engender little lasting esteem for his sub-genre cohorts.

This is all relevant to a discussion of T.I.'s latest record, T.I. vs. T.I.P., because Mr. Harris epitomizes the new-era hip-hop that I reject and others enjoy (though this album appears to be disappointing even admitted T.I. fans). When T.I. rhymes, I hear a distinguishable but boring microphone presence while some hear the ever amorphous "personality" coming out. Though I find his subjects to be fairly trite and tired, others believe that he has refined a certain mode of hip-hop that is at least excusable if not actually worthwhile. The rhymes that strike me as largely forgettable enrapture others. And though I tire of the endless synthesizers, others just can't get enough. I just don't really get the big deal about T.I. Beyond wanting to feel like you belong, like you're in on the successful marketing that has fueled his recent ascension, what is the appeal that makes him anything more than a mostly pedestrian MC? What makes any of these supposed "movement" rappers--stylistic or geographic--all that interesting? D4L, Rich Boy, Mike Jones, all of them--thanks for stopping by.

But let's not digress too far. Back to the lecture at hand: I doubt that T.I. vs. T.I.P. will offer many conclusive answers to any of my questions. So far, I've listened to it four times and won't lose sleep if I never hear it again. As you might suspect, I wasn't all that into last year's King of the Charts from the King of the South, King, but at least T.I. got what he paid for on that joint. The production was strong. This latest record is a disjointed hot mess: wannabe anthems that fall woefully short; confused, novelty production from Wyclef; a cheap Casio sound "perfected" on "We Do This"; the latest abortion from Eminem. Even Just Blaze phoned it in, relative to his standards (must have been too busy blogging). It says something really bad about this record that "Big Shit Poppin'," a track that has been constantly derided by fans, is ultimately the best song on the whole joint. Like, when your lead single bricks and there is no relief in sight, you're not the king of shit.

Worse for T.I.P. (or is that you, T.I.?), someone like Ludacris doesn't exactly make great albums, but at least he's funny. And at least he can put together some memorable lines. T.I. vs. T.I.P. is one boring, somber, self-involved march through the usual litany of contrivances. Even the album's concept--some sort of bullshit personality disorder born of the dichotomy that arises as someone from the streets achieves enviable success--is tedious and unimaginative. Accordingly, the rhymes are what you might expect: T.I. and T.I.P., they'll both tell you, are not people that you want it with; selling drugs is just how it goes (and even the government is a dopeman!); and being broke, as you may have heard while you were being underwhelmed, is not an option. Delivered with T.I.(P.)'s effortless (a good thing) assonance (also good) but largely uninspired (not that good) vocab and cadence, the lyrics make it hard for your mind to not wander toward better hip-hop or even a novelty song like Joe Esposito's "You're the Best" (which I can't get out of my head having watched Karate Kid this weekend).

I realize that this review makes T.I.'s album sound like it's only marginally better than a Jeezy record, but it's not that bad. Really, it's just boring. And lazy. And forced. This is an album that a newly successful rapper thinks that he needs to make. I'll get some big money guests, I'll throw together a quasi-deep concept, I'll have a song for every kind of fan--it's gonna be great! That's really where it goes wrong. It feels empty despite being so long. And it only reinforces what I was already fairly certain about: T.I. is not what I've been told he is.

Finally, a few miscellaneous, lingering thoughts:

- As I wondered over at Bol's, should Eminem be banned from hip-hop at this point? His production is, literally, among the worst in the game. He has unleashed the plague we call 50 Cent upon the world. And his verses aren't particularly good anymore. If he can't rap, can't produce, and can't make better choices, why are we still fucking with him? Give me 15 beats from Dre with rhymes from the Game, in all his arrested development and ambivalence-inspiring glory, and I'd be happier than I am now putting up with Eminem's continual blight.

- You'll never believe this, but take my word: Jay-Z makes a guest appearance.

- Though Wyclef is now some sort of senile calypso hip-hop circus act, The Carnival remains a great album. Just remember that.

- When Busta Rhymes isn't playing homophobic snitch vigilante and instead spits a focused verse, it still sounds good.

- The Just Blaze track, "Help Is Coming," bears an odd, passing resemblance to this NFL Primetime song.

The Supreme Court Hates America

The Axis of Evil.

I am not exaggerating when I say that yesterday was among the most demoralizing days I've had in a while. Why? This unreal shit.

Never again let anyone lie to you and pretend that there is no difference between Democrats and Republicans. The Supreme Court is a scary reminder of just how important that distinction can be. And if you want to know who you can thank for this fuckery, look here.

America is dying slowly.

Do You Like Dancing and "Pop That Coochie"?

Then you should work here...





Just for fun, I searched YouTube for "electric slide." The results are, not surprisingly, far ranging. For instance, here's some goofy white guys doing it at Cam'ron's pool:

Where They Paint Murals of Biggie

Certified Chatterbox, an affirmative-action weed carrier, and Tony Starks (HT: FlySi)

Let there be no doubt: if there's a Wu-Tang show, and you can drive to it (like, say, in a taxicab), then Cappadonna will show up. It's even better for Cap when it's a Ghostface show because then he has a lot to contribute. Shawn Wigs, too, appreciates those opportunities. After all, a weed carrier's gots to eat, right? What, you don't think this guy is a credible rapper? With that picture and the pseudo-Matrix background? Gutter, kid!

Those of us at the 3rd Annual Brooklyn Hip-Hop Festival were treated to this Theodore Unit party and all kinds of hip-hop on a glorious Saturday this weekend. The Brooklyn Hip-Hop Festival has emerged as an annual summer highlight, and this year did not disappoint. The Room Service Group and the Bodega always put on a great event; big up to Wes and crew.

I've now seen Ghostface in concert a number of times, and he's always good. As anyone who's listened to him or seen him live can attest, Ghostface lives in a odd universe where smart observation and true intelligence can some times mix with near hallucinations, rendering almost everything he says inherently more engaging than the words of your average rapper. His live shows are energetic, with the best of them approaching some kind of manic intensity. Saturday was among the more reserved, though, and if you want to differentiate among performances turned in by the best rapper in the game (believe that), this was perhaps among Ghost's weaker efforts. A great Tony Starks show should be sprawling and indulgent, with hits and rarities, red lights thrown on for 70s soul homages, women brought up on stage, and time afforded for Ghost to do his impulsive thing and offer sermons. On Saturday, primarily due to an abbreviated schedule and an odd set list, some of this character was curtailed. But this is all relative: with music from Supreme Clientele, Only Built 4 Cuban Linx, Enter the 36 Chambers, Forever, Ironman, Pretty Tone, Fishscale, Bulletproof Wallets, and even an impromptu Cappa verse from "Winter Warz" (which, of course, everyone could recite for themselves since it remains such a towering achievement), the crowd was more than capable of celebrating Ghost and the Wu-Tang oeuvre.

There were several other acts that made the day memorable:

- For the first time that I can recall, I really liked Sean Price live. Though it partially owes to his expanded catalogue following the spectacularly solid Jesus Price Supastar, it also owes to my own growing appreciation for the dude (). Similar to my aversion for those rappers who take their drug talk ever so seriously (aaaay), I usually get hung up on the devotion to violence professed by others. But Sean P is just straight gully, and you get the sense that he is just delivering a certain Brownsville reality as he rhymes.

- Consequence gets a bad rap. His solo music isn't especially memorable, and he can put out some corny shit, but he's also a pretty good rapper. His cadence is strong, he can be funny, and he wields an admirably assonant flow. He's the sort of dude who could spit his verses over other people's beats in concert and get the crowd howling because his production tends to be a weak link but he rides beats well enough.

- Kidz in the Hall showed me something. I had liked their album but hadn't paid it much attention. Having seen them live, I need to give it further consideration, because Naledge can really rap. Some of his writing can be a little contrived, but live he just seems like a real MC--into the music, into the crowd, able to command attention as he raps. It was a good set.

- Tanya Morgan was great in a modern-day Native Tongues kind of way. Just some playful dudes having a good time rhyming about whatever. They were very much of the event and crowd, if you know what I mean.

Aside from the music, the Festival was also a success because it drew cool people, as usual. Shouts to Ian, Rafi, Dallas, Jay, and James. In addition, it's always just sort of cool to show up and spend time among hip-hop fans of mixed ages and races; there's great people watching to be had and friends to be made at the Brooklyn Hip-Hop Festival. There are also an endless array of great t-shirts to be seen.

Unrelated: I've heard a lot of new music lately and need to get back to posting some reviews. For instance, I think we can start spelling "underwhelmingly mediocre at best" by just writing T.I. vs. T.I.P. And there's that whole NBA Draft thing poppin' off. We'll get into all that this week...

One Articulation of Why Internets Rule

Friday Throwback

Just one of those groups that channeled damn-near perfection.

As you survey the hip-hop landscape this year, the breakout hits appear to have a common thread: fun. From the conspicuous consumption of Rich Boy to the parody rock of the Shop Boyz to the club courtship of T-Pain, leading hip-hop records have promoted or fostered a certain timeless, carefree indulgence that will forever be a part of hip-hop culture. Despite the genre's political potential and the opportunity for insightful social and cultural commentary that it affords, hip-hop started as playful party music, and there is something endlessly enticing about that heritage. Though many fans and critics rightly bemoan the bullshit that has come to characterize so much of the hip-hop music industry, few would tell you that the indulgent strains of hip-hop no longer have a place or a value. In fact, given the inauthentic distortions of the thug posturing popularized by 50 Cent, now may be a time during which these sonic oases of escape have an elevated importance and utility,

The happy-time sense imparted by these tracks takes many forms: at Straight Bangin' headquarters, it's not uncommon to see your favorite blogger leaning and rocking or strutting around. Nor is it uncommon for said blogger, encouraged by the enthused mood of party hip-hip, to travel back in time and throw on greatest hits of the musical strain.

Overcome by a fit of this near joy last week, I loaded up my iPod with Bizarre Ride II the Pharcyde, a seminal record. I will forever remember strolling around my neighborhood and making my way to high school while blasting one of the most playful, sarcastic, creative records in hip-hop history. But more relevant today, I was intrigued when, recently, R. Kelly's "I'm a Flirt" was followed by the Pharcyde's "Soul Flower" while my iPod was shuffling through its contents. Is there a song that encompasses unbridled hip-hop enthusiasm better than "Soul Flower"? From the colorful, undulating moans to the goofy rhymes, it's a song that oozes excitment and sublime relaxation. Further, it's just one of those songs that will always make you smile.

And thus, it's perfect for this summer Friday. When its practitioners aren't taking themselves so seriously, hip-hop can be the best.

- Pharcyde, "Soul Flower"

It Goes Down Tomorrow

Jyeah!

Ghostface, Consequence, Large Professor, Sean Price, Dres, Skillz, 9th Wonder--all on one stage? Must be the Brooklyn Hip-Hop Festival. Pops off tomorrow. As usual, it will likely be the hip-hop event of the summer.

R.I.P. Terry Hoeppner

I spend my summers as most other internets-oriented college football fans spend theirs--I bone up on how my team is recruiting; I visit message boards for the sparse nectar of football knowledge that temporarily satiates my endless appetite; I wake up in the middle of the night wracked with anxiety following nightmares of devastating off-season injuries and games blown by my team's antiquated, stubborn coach (that last part may not be as common); and I look ahead and assess the upcoming schedule.

For Michigan fans, there are several games to worry about each summer: anything having to do with Warden Tressel; anything having to do with the West Coast; anything having to do with teams or coaches in need of a legitimizing victory; anything having to do with a title ending in "Bowl"; and the usual "unexpected" Big Ten shit show when bad coaching and predictable schemes and bad play all lead to an inexplicable defeat. Purdue, Michigan State, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Northwestern, Illinoise (that's some Zookanese), Penn State (it's been a decade, after all)--you never know.

Indiana isn't on that list, but it was on its way. From a Michigan perspective, that's what struck me about the tragic passing of Coach Hoeppner.

I didn't know Terry Hoeppner as a person and I did not follow his career with any sort of elevated scrutiny, but I did take notice when he was hired to coach the Hoosiers. Hoeppner was an enthusiastic and compassionate coach who won a lot of games while coaching at a mid-major. His was not a career spent serving as a custodian of someone else's program, and his victories did not primarily owe to superior talent. What he accomplished, he accomplished as a smart tactician and great person. Reading about his life and his lasting impact makes this clear. And it was reinforced in a more personal way when, last month, I stopped to wonder if Michigan could lose to Indiana this season.

Michigan fans don't usually think about that; Michigan doesn't lose to Indiana. But nevertheless, it occurred to me because the warranted perennial pessimism in which I traffic was no longer met by the reassuring thought, "It's just Indiana." Rather, I'd noticed that Hoeppner had changed the culture of the Hoosier program and had not settled for humble goals. Instead he spoke about challenging Michigan and other schools for Big Ten supremacy. And it never seemed like an inspirational ploy; I read his comments as a manifesto that he intended to follow.

Sadly, he did not have enough time to see his plan to fruition, and that is Indiana's loss no more than it is college football's. Hoeppner, even for those who observed from a distance, was an engaging and impressive coach. He earned this Michigan fan's ultimate respect.

Do You Like Lost?

If you watch Lost, you may want to watch this: a viewer-made video sequence of everything that was happening as the plane crashed. This has been on YouTube for more than half a year, so pardon me if I am late on this, but I hadn't seen it before this morning.

Get Out Your Pencils and Mark This Down

Sacrimoni!

In all likelihood, Straight Bangin' will never again be dapping up Hillary Clinton. But after watching the video above, how can I not? This is the sort of crafty, humanizing element that is woefully absent from contemporary politics. I have long believed that my favorite political debate would be one in which candidates eschewed the canned rhetoric and instead spent an hour and a half explaining what they'd do if they were cut in line, what they can remember about the first time that they saw Michael Jordan play, how many times they've seen Star Wars, and other real-person stuff like that. I mean, if they're not going to talk about policy specifics (How, exactly, do we pay for that?) and always rely on the crutch of empty jargon, I'd rather get to know them as people and read about the substance that I need to know.

Hillary Clinton, I salute you.

Also, say what you will about pro-developer, still-presiding-over-shitty-schools Michael Bloomberg, but the dude is pro-choice; he doesn't waste time worrying about those big, bad gays and all those rights they have the nerve to expect; he is unabashedly anti-gun, something that no other leading politician champions (and that is shameful); he doesn't degrade the legacy of 9/11 by invoking it every time he's running late for a meeting (or covering up the fact that he married his cousin and hires drug dealers); and he seems like a reasonable person. I am intrigued.

Finally, about something I wrote yesterday: You decide, Thompson or Vigo?

Sometimes I Lie

And a good example is that last week, I made a big deal about being done with the LSAT...only to disappear again. Sorry. I kind of got slaughtered at work. Apparently the reward for busting my ass was more shit to do. And this week, I am on the road for work through Friday night. But until I exist in abject poverty, I probably have little to complain about when it comes to working.

What I will complain about is Fred Thompson. I've heard Republicans laud him as some kind of savior who will inject energy and actual enthusiasm into a race that has so far left a lot of Republicans dissatisfied. If you believe an LA Times/Bloomberg poll from earlier this month, Rudy Giuliani is the dude, but there are a host of problems for him and every other Republican aspiring to further destroy the country by working off an eight-year foundation of disaster after disaster after disaster. This potential failure for the Republicans seems borne out by the fact that Hillary, Barry O (not Harry O), and Edwards, according to this same poll, could all feel good about their chances against almost any Republican candidate. Since he's been known to seem reasonable and has been on television and in Die Hard 2, Thompson has been hailed by some as a uniter (and, of course, preferable decider, like G-Dub). Others like that he is a "real conservative," which I think means that he won't tolerate abortion but will run up deficits so long as it means never taxing rich people and insist that religion be a part of public life.

As you're likely not surprised to read, I think that however you want to cast Thompson--maybe he's some dope-ass Trojan Horse "moderate" who is a wink-wink conservative who can play nice; maybe he's an unembarrassed Reagan man--you must not fail to mention that he's a reprehensible dinosaur. And we'll get to that. But I also want to note that most disturbing thing about Thompson is that Democrats I know--smart Democrats, even--are telling me that Thompson is somehow appealing. WTF?! Really, WHAT?! How badly are the Democratic candidates already in the race shaping up if ostensible lefties are telling me that Fred Thompson is interesting? I mean, it's interesting, in the truest sense of the word, that he was a Senator and actor. And it's interesting that he was part of the greatest action trilogy ever. But that's the extent of the interest.

Not interesting, or, rather, not acceptable, is that Mr. Thompson:

- Seemingly doesn't believe in global warming and instead makes jokes about it to pander to anti-science, anti-intellectual conservatives;
- Is "grateful" to have a mediocre Republican apparatchik like Samuel Alito on the Supreme Court;
- Appears to believe that a militia could be formed in any state at any time, and as a result thinks that we need more guns around (hopefully concealed?);
- And looks a lot like Vigo the Carpathian.

This dude is some kind of panacea for what ails America? Come on, people!

Return of the Magnificent

I promised I'd be back.

Some quick-hitters that may have been timely over these past two weeks:

Politics
- Anyone who doesn't believe in evolution and thinks that gay people aren't fit to serve in the military shouldn't be President. You also shouldn't be President if you're obsessed with 9/11, if you talk about terrorism like it's a real "war," if you like Roberts or Alito, and if you're named Fred Thompson.

- Gore, Edwards, Dodd, Obama, Biden--the only people I'd consider right now.

- Democrats funding abstinence education as sex-ed and rolling over on the war = more of the same bullshit.

- Why don't Democrats come to work every day with pie charts and graphs and other visual aids showing Americans how much money we're not spending on education and health care, how much more money now separates rich from poor, and how many times the Bush Administration has committed some kind of constitutional contravention?

Music
- Congratulations to Hot 97. Summer Jam is now irrelevant.

- The Kanye tape is good. I am a Mindset soldier, but I gotta say it. Actually, I already kind of did.

- The new Talib Kweli joint has some promise.

- The U.S.D.A. record is on my ten worst list. And I can't believe that they'd deface Curtis Mayfield's "Choice of Colors" like that.

- Rick Ross's work on the new DJ Khaled album reconfirms his eligibility for assassination. I'm pretty sure that this world would be better off without him.

- Game's "Beautiful Life" is my joint right now.

- Listening to R. Kelly's latest album should qualify as an anthropological study of a different culture.

Life
- If you didn't like the Sopranos ending then you're wrong. Or then maybe you just didn't like the show because that's what it was.

Sports
- I don't always agree with Gary Sheffield, but I love him.

- The Eastern Conference Finals said much more about Detroit than Cleveland. Primarily, the former is done.

- I love the Spurs but have a hard time getting excited about these Finals. Cleveland is just horrible to watch, and has been all year.

- I can't recall an athlete about whom I've cared less in the last decade than Roger Clemens. He probably takes steroids, he's a horrible teammate, he's not that good in the playoffs, and I wish he'd just go away.

- U.S. Open is just two days away!

- It's not right to hate a teenager, but Michelle Wie and her people are pretty much detestable.

Real shit tomorrow.