Lists, Coming Soon to Straight Bangin'

Year-enders will be posted over the weekend and during the early portion of next week. Movies, TV, sports, musics. Get pumped.

Happy New Year.

PSA: James Posey Is the New Robert Horry

Just wanted to let everyone know. In case you hadn't noticed.

Plays great defense. Hits big threes. Usually in the right place. That non-marquee dude who makes fans of the other team cringe in knowing fear.

Again, just an FYI.

P.S. Best moment of the game: Matt Bonner was flailing for a rebound before committing a foul and inadvertently knocking into Chris Paul. CP3 went quasi-crazy for a moment until Tim Duncan--whom the ESPN crew had just identified as Paul's childhood idol--walked over to Paul, firmly tapped him on the chest, shot him a disappointed stare, and snapped, "Calm the fuck down." It was then back to business as usual.

The NBA is the best!

P.P.S. Here is the video:

St. Louis Keeps It Gully. Or, Last Night Was the Most Embarrassing of My Life

Will not hesitate to punch you.

When I moved to St. Louis, I carefully selected a place to live. I wanted to be close enough to school that commuting would not be onerous or time consuming, but not too close, lest the lure of a nap take me away from school each afternoon. In this city of cars, I wanted to be near nightlife and restaurants so that I wouldn't have to always be concerned with designated drivers. And, like anyone else, I wanted to find a place that would be safe.

I settled in the Central West End, a nice place with lots of young professionals, students, and teachers. It's a short drive to campus, it's within walking distance of many restaurants, and it's safe. Not far from my home is the intersection of Lindell Boulevard and Euclid Avenue. Lindell is a street that, by various names, runs from the Mississippi River to the western edge of St. Louis City. Euclid is a central commercial artery in my 'hood. The corner where these two intersect is highly trafficked, well lighted, and busy throughout the day and night.

Last night, around 8:30, I was walking along Lindell, about to hit Euclid, when I saw three high-school-seeming girls standing on the block laughing and acting obstreperously. It was unruly, but it also was age appropriate. When I was 14, 15, 16, I spent a lot of time on various streets making noise and losing myself in the world I shared with my friends. As such, it didn't seem remarkable or worthy of consideration that to make my way home, I'd have to pass through this group.

Shame on me. St. Louis keeps it gully.

As I was passing through this group of girls, my first thought was that I was wrong: they were likely no more than 13, and not actually even in high school, yet. My second thought was somewhat different. It was one of shock. I was startled because I suddenly felt a fist burrying itself into my right side. It didn't hurt--you know I'm hardbody (and come on, it was a 13-year-old girl). But still, it was absolutely jarring.

A fist. A strange fist. Belonging to a 13-year-old girl. Making its way into me.

Who punches a complete stranger? In a nice neighborhood awash in street light? As it happened, time slowed down, because I couldn't fully process what was happening. It was surreal. Once it had transpired, I took a brief moment to gather myself before turning around and just exclaiming, "Excuse me?" It was the only thing that I could muster.

In response, my assailant just started cackling and cursing at me as she cavorted with her friends, who were similarly amused and celebratory. Then they started yelling some more and called me a punk as I just kind of slinked away, beffudled and embarrassed and amused. I mean, WHAT?!

So yeah. I was effectively emasculated and quasi-beat down by a roving pack of 13-year-olds on one of the safest street corners in America's second-most-dangerous city. Like I said, the STL is gully.

- Sean Price, "Violent"
This seems like the most appropriate response, really.

Bill Kristol Finally Wrote Something Interesting!

U-S-A! U-S-A!

It took him about a year at the Times, but Kristol has finally written a column that is not a self-indulgent, intellectually dishonest repackaging of the week's latest RNC talking points. (I guess there are only so many times you can apologize for annointing Sarah Palin.)

I don't fully understand the economics of the auto industry, so I can't say with certainty whether Kristol's substantive ideas work well. But in taking a moment to call out the general disdain educated people, in particular, feel toward the American car industry--something, I'll admit, of which I am guilty given how strongly I believe that these companies have inflicted most of their own wounds--Kristol does us a service by acknowledging it and giving it some dimension in the contexts of contemporary politics and the ongoing financial crisis. I'll readily cop to being a car driver who happily lampoons the Big Three and enjoyed the condesension and righteous indignation with which they were treated in Washington. (Not necessarily something of which I'm proud.) Just as I'll cop to being a free-trade liberal simultaneously wary of unions, but also of allowing for patent mistreatment of workers by companies that aren't forced to do otherwise. So this is a column that finally says something. That finally calls for deeper consideration, rather than the garbage can.

If I am going to regularly get up in that ass () when he's his usual moronic self, it's only fair that I also acknowledge his rare moments of value.

I Will Be Busy on May 1st

Um, yeah. This should be good.

Lot of Austin Powers Fans in Iraq

Who throws a shoe? Honestly?

Give Bush dap. He stood in there and kept his poise. He could probably start at QB for the Lions.

Merry Christmas from Tony Starks

I want this for Christmas.

You know what's the best way to get me to respect Christmas? Have Ghostface rap about it. I have no idea what it is like to be with him on a day when he decides that he, and Trife, and Shawn, and Sun God, and Rae, and Cap, and the twenty other weed carriers he rolls with are gonna bumrush the studio so that he can spit a new verse that occurred to him as he was in a Toys R Us sizing up some mom. But I think I'd pay at least $10,000 to be a part of it. Seriously. If I: a) had an income; b) had $10,000 to spend on anything. I think this would be at the top of the list.

This is one of the best discursive Christmas raps of all time. And the Dip Set has two Christmas albums, alone. Think about that.

An odd element of hip-hop's ascendancy is that despite its mainstream appeal and mass audience, the genre has injected many "urban" and non-standard themes into the discourse without experience a mutual equilibrium, absorbing more of the standard fare with which it now mingles. Things like pimps and "bling" and the other stuff that they joke about on 30 Rock wouldn't be funny to a Thursday night primetime network audience if rap music hadn't popularized certain canned images, ideas, and vernacular. But that's largely been a one-way transformation. Rappers may rap about stocks and investments, or cars that everyone dreams about, and there may be the odd Jay-Z here and there who has become fully assimilated into our traditional models of how a star comports himself, but there remains a barrier that has preserved hip-hop's place as a rogue, of sorts. It is a genre that challenges and moves mainstream content (even while being mainstream, itself) rather than one that, topically, now feeds off of the whole of which it is an undeniable component.

This is not necessarily to say that it's to the genre's detriment musically. It may not be all that interesting to rap about the holiday spirit. And there is likely not a massive market for a hip-hop equivalent of Hannah Montana. (I believe Lil' Romeo tried that and failed, in fact.) But still, it is worthy of remark that hearing Ghostface play with the traditional imagery of Christmas engenders a certain happy bemusement. Not only is it fun to hear what he's saying, but it's fun to contemplate that he's saying it in the first place. And that owes to the infrequency with which rap music has been concerned with some of the standard, saccharine elements of mainstream American culture. Dip Set Christmas is about Dip Set things that simply happen in December or are set to holiday songs; Ghostface Christmas is about Tony participating in something that everyone else is already doing.

- Ghostface Killah, "Ghostface X-Mas"

- Skull Gang, "Christmas Song"
P.S. Whatever you thought about the Diplomats, that the Skull Gang is now getting put on under the imprimatur of the Set is a joke. Cam'ron is surely spinning in his grave.

A Tour of the West with Stephon Marbury

Too good to be made up.

Marbury, still banned from the Knicks, said he's leaving Sunday for a two-week respite from the cold weather, heading west for a vacation to Los Angeles, Mexico and Hawaii.

Marbury likely will be in L.A. when the Knicks face the Lakers there on Tuesday. It's unclear if he would be in violation of his ban if he attends the game at Staples Center as a courtside fan.

New York Post, December 11, 2008

Do you like warm weather?

Do you dream of seeing the coast?

Do you think you have what it takes to make it in Hollywood?

Do you want to snorkel with exotic wildlife?

Do you want to see what the fuss about "Mexico" is all about, anyway?

ACT NOW AND RESERVE YOUR PLACE ON A ONCE-IN-A-LIFETIME TOUR OF THE AMERICAN WEST WITH STEPHON MARBURY!

Overcome by suspension-based free time and money, Stephon is fleeing these cold, nasty wintry New York shores for a few weeks, and he wants you to come along!

Think of the fun you'll have hanging with Stephon. As his new best buddy, you'll get to hold hands while you surf Oahu (no homo). You'll find that just-right Jesus piece you've been searching for at Harry Winston on Rodeo Drive. You'll drink tequila and impress local interns with the size of your truck as you roll through Mexico.

But that's not all. You'll get to text and BBM with Stephon's friends. You never know what you'll read when Steph's homie MTkiddynamite sends you a 4 AM message about what's he's been up to**. You'll get to drunk dial old teammates and coaches who have tired of Stephon's immaturity and let them know that they're the ones with the problem, man.

And the pranks! Nothing says "gotcha" like showing up courtside as a simple fan earnestly taking in a basketball game when the Knicks play the Lakers. Think of the glamor. Think of the intrigue as you sneak into the Knicks's locker room and pee in coach D'Antoni's shampoo. Or leave those fire ants in Chris Duhon's underwear. With your new bff Stephon, the fun never stops!

Spaces are limited and the jet leaves soon, so sign up today!

* Please note that due to a team-imposed suspension, Stephon will not be allowed to speak with you about the Knicks during the trip. But all jokes about Isiah Thomas are welcomed. And who really needed to be Kevin Garnett's teammate, anyway?!

**All participants in the trip must sign a waiver indemnifying Mr. Marbury from any guilt by association and acknowledging the adult content likely to by found in Mr. Tyson's texts.


As you ride on donkeys from California to Mexico, Stephon will teach you his patented action-photography techniques to ensure that you capture stunning vistas from the West which you can treasure for a life.

Lots of Things Seem Like Good Ideas with the Camera On

Embedding was disabled. Just watch and enjoy. I gotta take a test tomorrow.

The Real Kill It

Oh man, I like this one:

Perfect MK

The man. Period.

My man () The Manifesto over at Eclectic Relaxation has put together a Black Milk masterpiece: a four-part mixtape of his greatest work. I highly recommend that people check it out--you'll likely catch some stuff that you haven't hear before, and you'll be reminded of the realness. Black Milk is the best hip-hop producer working right now.

You May Have Heard of Us

Hello! Hello! Hello! Hello, America!

Michigan beat Duke today. It will stand as the Wolverines' biggest win in the last decade until the next time UM beats a fourth-ranked team this year. Because, well, that's just what the Beilein Boys do.

Michigan basketball is back. Not sure if this is a Tourney bid year, and not sure how this season will shake out, ultimately, but Michigan is back. And John Beilein is why.

It's great to be a Michigan Wolverine.

A Lil' Illa J

Shake these haters like dice.

Been getting into Illa J, Dilla's little brother, a bunch lately. Especially since he raps over some late-90s Dilla beats. Dude makes the solid, smoothed out hip-hop. Pretty good for studying, thinking, lounging. I'm a fan. A few choice joints:

- Illa J ft. Guilty Simpson, "R U Listenin'"

- Illa J ft. Affion Crockett, "DFTF"

Buy Illa J's album!

A Woman of Endless Strength

When my father was 13 years old, his father passed away. He was 57, and he died of a heart attack. His death left my grandmother with little money, no college education, and two teenage children to raise, one about to start college and the other about to start high school.

This was the framework in which I always understood my father's childhood and my grandmother's role in his life. Grandma Belle's story was one of challenge and sacrifice. Like my father, she had to work hard for everything and enjoyed none of the privileges or conveniences or connections that make life easy. I always thought of her as a survivor, something all the more real when I was old enough to appreciate that she won a battle with breast cancer before I was even born. And I'm 27 years old.

I suppose all of this made my grandmother remarkable, because she succeeded and thrived, even. She raised those two children well, and both now lead rich, full, successful lives that stand as testaments to the prevailing promise of opportunity that carried the Baby Boom generation. She defeated cancer. She worked hard, relying on her intelligence and gumption to carve out a career in municipal service. She became a home owner. Ever the paragon of responsibility, she saved enough money to spend 25 years of retirement traveling, taking in cultural attractions, and exhausting the notion of being a true New Yorker. She had been to this neighborhood, she had seen that show, she had eaten here, she had visited there. My grandmother was virtuous in so many ways.

On Saturday, Grandma Belle passed away. She was 93 and had been battling Alzheimer's. She was never the stereotypical grandparent, excessively nurturing and always on your side. She did not ooze saccharine. My grandmother was, instead, a complicated matriarch, venerable for all that she had survived, experienced, and espoused. When I would visit with her, I was always struck by her earnest approach to all people and things and her proud individualism. I also knew a woman who appreciated a joke and could recognize the sarcasm and good-natured outrage that runs through my family. Can you believe it?!

Grandma Belle passes on a legacy that embodies many of the values which I hold dear--honesty, loyalty, diligence, pragmatism, humor. Moreover, her death has offered occasion for me to reflect upon just how much of what I love about my father was shaped by her role in his life, foibles and strengths. Fittingly, her funeral on Tuesday was a time when my family came together to celebrate, not just mourn, a remarkable, admirable woman who meant so much in so many ways, a number of which were not always easy to see or readily appreciated. But there is no doubt that my Grandma Belle ultimately made us all much better people. You can't say that about everyone, and that is an incredible accomplishment, perhaps the greatest of a life already filled with them.

Back to Business

Don't front like you don't recognize his realness.

OK. It's finals time. That means lots of studying, weird hours, and, oddly, more posting (you know I have to take breaks). Get ready...

AZ, "I'm Back"
Nice little walk down memory lane. There is a class of rappers who will never be cited as exemplary but who are nonetheless timeless. AZ is among them. He's like Ricky Pierce--consistently good enough to have a memorable niche.