Broadcasting Live from a St. Louis Suburban Starbucks

It's been a long time
I shouldn't've left you
Without some lines about
My grind and what the stress do
Think of how many weak posts you read through
Time's up
I'm sorry I kept you
Thinkin' you're pissed
You don't know reading like this
The work of the law school soloist
And you sit by the internets
Hand on the mouse/Soon
As you read this
Increased post volume

Apologies to Rakim. I think the point is that I am in the midst of finals, so posting will be light.

...But not light enough to miss a chance to continue shouting about financial reform. Two worthwhile pieces of writing which I submit for your consideration. First, Bethany McLean is right that while the anger directed toward Goldman is justified, people also need to be angry at the federal government:

But it was the purported regulators, including the Office of the Comptroller of the Currency and the Office of Thrift Supervision, that used their power not to protect, but rather to prevent predatory lending laws. The Federal Reserve, which could have cracked down on lending practices at any time, did next to nothing, thereby putting us at risk as both consumers and taxpayers. All of these regulators, along with the S.E.C., failed to look at the bad loans that were moving through the nation’s banking system, even though there were plentiful warnings about them.

More important, it was Congress that sat by idly as consumer advocates warned that people were getting loans they’d never be able to pay back. It was Congress that refused to regulate derivatives, despite ample evidence dating back to 1994 of the dangers they posed. It was Congress that repealed the Glass-Steagall Act, which separated investment and commercial banking, yet failed to update the fraying regulatory system.

It was Congress that spread the politically convenient gospel of home ownership, despite data and testimony showing that much of what was going on had little to do with putting people in homes. And it’s Congress that has been either unwilling or unable to put in place rules that have a shot at making things better. The financial crisis began almost three years ago and it’s still not clear if we’ll have meaningful new legislation. In fact, Senate Republicans on Monday voted to block floor debate on the latest attempt at a reform bill.

There should be enough hostility to go around. But not the generic populist rage which so many people indiscriminately point in various directions at various times usually for lazy or misguided reasons. How about being mad at banks for intentionally violating fiduciary duties and then having the temerity to take your money while insisting that their greed was good for everyone else. And how about being mad at the federal government--Democrats and Republicans--not only for enabling the crisis, but also now for failing to insist upon rigorous and swift reform despite the harrowing empirical evidence that seems to engender urgency in nearly every other informed observer without a conflicting interest?

If you're having a hard time getting sufficiently pissed off, read this:

Hedging as a general strategy is fine. But deliberately constructing specific securities that you believe will implode, and then selling them to your clients as great investments is not so fine. According to the Senate subcommittee investigating Goldman, that's what they did on five different CDOs they issued in 2006 and 2007.

Rise up, people.

Apropos of nothing else in this post, enjoy this. Just because.



- Bill Cosby, Martin's Funeral

Music for a Monday: Diggin' Bob James

In college, my friend Dustin put me on to this group called the Electric Company. They had this one track "Where Would You Be" with a dope remix, all soulful and playful, that I couldn't listen to enough. In 2002, the internets were still getting themselves together, and I never learned more about Electric Company. I sort of liked it that way, though. There was mystery about them--what else might get released? How would I hear it? When are they going to blow? It was the mental state to which I had become accustomed while growing up with unreliable music magazines and an AOL account, and it's one which I think about all the time. This is a romantic notion, but I find something charming when I stop and consider the way that music heads in the 60s and 70s, for instance, would have to wait in between records with relatively little information, few loose tracks floating around, and a far more attenuated connection with artists nonetheless holding them over. It's hard to find that same innocent amusement as a rap fan in 2010 now that artists and labels make videos for everything--(wack) trailers for mixtapes, (worthless) behind the scenes footage, (useless) interviews about nothing--and a willing set of rap blogs and news outlets post them without fail. It's harder not to know.

Anyway, Electric Company never went anywhere, they changed their name (kind of), and they remained in relative anonymity. Only, the "Where Would You Be" remix created a legacy in my mind that persists. I still love that track, and I still attach to it the naive enthusiasm that grew out of my ignorance about the group. "Where Would You Be" collected dust in my head, but that only made the group more inscrutable, cementing its odd legacy in my personal universe.

So, you can only imagine how pleased I was the other day to stumble across Bob James's "Blue Lick" while researching the Digable Planets' Blowout Comb and realizing that Electric Company had appropriated "Blue Lick" for its legendary remix track.

Enjoy a brief stroll down Straight Bangin' Memory Lane.

Bob James, "Blue Lick"


Electric Company, "Where Would You Be" Remix


Digable Planets, "Jettin'"

THERE ARE NO WORDS

This guy is going to get death threats from militant Christians.

Happy weekend.

Better Than Yours: Two Southern Gents You All Love

We salute you?

Homies and homettes, we have a decision to render: in 2010, who best used Tom Brock's "If We Don't Make It, Nobody Can" sample? Here is the original:

Tom Brock, "If We Don't Make It, Nobody Can"


Here are your contenders:

Young Jeezy, "Greatest Trapper Alive"


Bun B and GLC, "Happiness Before Riches"


Certain rap tracks embody entire scenes. Beans and Free on "The Last Two" is a perfect example. How can you listen to that track and not envision yourself doing something all nefarious? It practically demands that no one play it unless he or she is wearing a hoodie and hanging out by some trashcan fire, on the verge of criminal activity or hiding out post-heist. If nothing else, let's all agree that this is what Slim Charles is bumping as he rides around shining.

So it is that rap's most stylized drug dealer has carried the day. Jeezy destroys this beat in a way that puts Bun and GLC to shame. That says more about Jeezy than his vanquished pseudo foes.

I used to hate Young Jeezy. I thought his rapping was simple, silly, and self-defeating. Jeezy didn't only traffic in hip-hop's most trite images, but he did so brashly, demonstrating pride which I always found socially corrosive. He embraced the lowest common denominator. His overrated trap rapping only exacerbated my frustration because his ascendancy seemed to be fueled by diminished standards, critical group-think, and the continued elevation of style over substance. Don't forget, Jeezy was the Snowman endlessly hailed for his ad libs and his "swagger" back when people were racing to wear out that word as quickly as possible. Young Jeezy wasn't a rapper when he first dropped; he was the embodiment of an idea.

Since then, the man has changed a little, and so has taste, mine and the mainstream's. Jeezy has grown into his prematurely world-weary voice--those gimmicky improvisations are now less pronounced and less weighted because there is more to the total Jeezy package. His sound has evolved, too; it was almost a necessity for the better. The public's appetite for generic southern production, with its blaring synthesizers and frenetic but empty drums, has taken on nuance to match the heartier, fuller southern sounds that have exploded in the last few years. "My Hood" sounds and feels very different than "Who Dat," for example. This shift has aided Jeezy, who has maintained the same assured intrusiveness, but who no longer leaves the lingering impression of a vainglorious fool. He sounds more mature, whether it's a mirage, judicious moderation, or authentic growth.

Jeezy is now capable of a truly resonant song that not only amuses, but also moves. Maybe not in the way that a Public Enemy track connected with righteous indignation, but certainly in a fashion that can rile us up. It's fun hearing a Jeezy track at times, something "Greatest Trapper Alive" exemplifies. This is the apotheosis of the mood that Jeezy has cultivated across his career. Set to a 70s soul beat that conjures fur coats, wide American cars, and the contrived images of a hustler, we hear the modern incarnation, an updated form packaged for the radio and mixtape circuit. Big guns, loose women, easy money, and street sensibilities all seductively peddled by a man who easily dances across the music, spitting bars with an elegance that recalls Kobe when he's doing his best work. The scratchy gravitas of Jeezy's voice enriches the sound and confers upon him a power and dominion over the music by implication. You couldn't sound the way he does over this track unless it was meant to be yours.

Sadly, the Jeezy track marginalizes an otherwise strong effort by Bun and GLC, brothers in baritone. How often can you find a rapper whose voice wrests away control over a beat from those two? Tire of Bun B if you want. Lord knows that I do (especially when he's indefatigably promoting the fallacy that Pimp C was a great artist). Cast quizzical glances at your tape deck as you wonder about GLC's range and talent. But cop to the fact that more often than not, you're going to concede that either one of them has the vocal power to control a production. Only here, Jeezy is playing chess while they're busy with checkers. That's impressive.

RIP Keith Elam

Sad day today, as Guru has passed. The man was a wizard on the microphone. Gifted Unlimited Rhymes Universal was the most fitting nickname in hip-hop.

Rap music took a *major* L today.

I Twist Darts from the Heart

Let us all tip our caps in appreciation.

A few quick things for this Monday morning:

- This new Game song "It Must Be Me" is incredibly strange.

Full disclosure, from the jump: a not so dirty secret of mine is that I am easily amused by the Game. His ceaseless name dropping bothered me for a while, but then I stopped taking him so seriously. His constant thug posturing and beef mongering bothered me for a while, but then I started considering these pathologies to be engaging manifestations of his personality disorder. I am interested in the man who comes through the music more so than the music, itself. But the music is the medium--and the medium is the message (have always wanted to drop that phrase since I've not always understood it)--so we consider this song.

Playing the Popular Rapper game is somewhat confusing these days: people need to make catchy songs, then they need to change lanes without getting off the road entirely. You get in and you grow, or you become marginalized. Lil' Wayne, Kanye West, Jay-Z--rap stars who are also mainstream pop phenomena, in part because they have managed to retain a firm hold on what made them famous while experimenting with other things that media folk tend to overestimate in the service of convincing everyday people that we, too, should care about these forays into otherdom. Looking out through that critical lens reveals many irksome scenes--witness this bit of self-conscious taste-making about the supposed genius of B.o.B.--yet one can appreciate the landscape.

Everyone who bricks or who merely isn't talented enough (at music, at marketing, at self-promotion) rubs up against the glass ceilings of lesser success. "Ceilings," of course, because there are various tiers. T.I. is no Lil' Wayne, for instance. And Ludacris probably is no longer T.I. You get the point.

Like news reporting, then, rappers have a choice: they can try to be The New York Times, most things to most people, or they can try to be Gawker, fewer things for fewer people. Jay-Z and Kanye West are the Times. The risk inherent in pursuing this strategy is that an MC can fail entirely or, perhaps worse, end up in some nebulous career limbo where he is neither popular enough to feel rewarded by mainstream appreciation nor niche-specific enough to cultivate a dedicated audience. A rapper can wake up with New York Times dreams and go to bed with CNN nightmares. The alternative is to be Ghostface. Starks, like Gawker, presides over a lesser kingdom, one populated by fans looking for a specific product and likely to be far less fickle than a Times reader. Gawker is very good at the hallmark coverage it provides, and that news, unlike the broad-strokes news stories at nytimes.com, isn't as easily found by clicking elsewhere. There can be respectability, and a living, in mastering just a few things.

An artistic downside of this rap-music hierarchy comes from the unintended consequence of living out Gawker ambitions: complacency. Albums like Big Doe Rehab stand as testament to the evils of comfort. A rapper can fill his niche well enough for long enough that he takes for granted the product he's delivering to an audience he assumes will be unwavering. Equally concerning is the overreaction that might arise when an MC who has stayed in his lane for too long realizes that he needs to make a change in the name of recapturing quality.

The Game has made his career by publishing a West Coast, studio-gangster Gawker. Record after record, mixtape after mixtape, and hundred bars after hundred bars, Jayceon does exactly what he always does: name checks famous people; writes conspicuous raps about NBA players; talks tough; rouses rabble with his clumsy disses; and endlessly explores all the ways he can evoke the gritty Los Angeles images curated by movies like Boyz N the Hood and Falling Down, albums like The Chronic and The Predator. Taking Game's dispatches literally places a listener in a mid-90s Los Angeles confusingly cluttered by modern-day celebrities, cars, women, and beef. But all the same, Game's quite good at this sort of schtick, and there is something undeniably fun about suspending one's better judgment and just letting the Game do his thing. Game record are guilty pleasures.

Sadly, then, "It Must Be Me" sounds like the compensatory overreaction to doing something for too long. While Game's lyrics are as sensational and harmlessly amusing as always, and his flow no less bludgeoning, he has replaced the heavy soul beats that have always redeemed his flaws with a tinny, grating synthesizer from Pharrell. Pharrell may have made great party records way back when, and he may occasionally find the perfect way to distill the Clipse's grim Virginia drug dealing, but he does not produce West Coast gangster music, and it shows. Soulless and funkless, with or without the G, this beat is too light and airy for the Game, a man who needs the anchor of a fuller, more robust sound. Without a sufficient counterweight, Game becomes overbearing, hackneyed, dull; the cinematic feel of his word pictures requires the right kind of score.

Game also does himself no favors by choosing a cadence that is eerily reminiscent of Black Rob's "Whoa." The background music's high-pitched screaming combines with these terse, simple bars to create the impression of an unintended throwback gone horribly awry. Listen for yourself:

The Game, "It Must Be Me"


Black Rob, "Whoa"


As I wrote, it's a weird song. Smarten up, Game.

- The NBA probably stole this commercial idea from "Press Hop," right? The derivative version sucks.

Steve Porter, "Press Hop"


- Kevin Garnett should retire. What he did on Saturday was embarrassing. I have always loved KG, and I always will. But his heel turn as a member of the Celtics has been regrettable and unpleasant. It's not even that he's meaner or more profane or more aggressive. Kevin's always been competitive to the point of coming off like an asshole. It's that he now seems joyless, like he's laboring away at filling a role. His body has failed him, and he seems intent on playing "The Kevin Garnett People Expect" instead of just being himself. Mean mugging for the sake of it demeans someone who was previously so dignified, even in his most authentically hysterical moments.

Just hang it up, Kevin. We'll all like you better when we don't have to see you in that horrible Celtics jersey, anyway.

- Good news for sci-fi fans: it appears that Barack Obama has found the formula for time travel. How else to explain that while wrangling over financial reform, he is adopting the same losing tactics and strategy which he employed while negotiating against himself over health care? It's as though that never happened and he wants to try again. So let's see: the White House and the Democrats will make unnecessary concessions, in the process giving up on important ideas that are supported by empirical evidence and public sentiment; the Republicans will continue to be duplicitous obstructionists without any meaningful new ideas; and ultimately, a bitter fight will lead to a wedge piece of legislation that is less popular and less useful than it could have been.

[/shakes his head in disgust and stops typing because the words would get someone arrested for vulgarity.]

- My sister has resuscitated her blog. She's apparently sending regular missive to Lil' Wayne while he's in prison. Check her out; she's funny. At least, I think so.

A Penny's Worth of Justice

Hi, nice to meet you. My name is Lloyd. Now I need to get back to ruining the world for everyone else.

The SEC is suing Goldman Sachs for securities fraud. As the Commission explains:

The SEC alleges that Goldman Sachs structured and marketed a synthetic collateralized debt obligation (CDO) that hinged on the performance of subprime residential mortgage-backed securities (RMBS). Goldman Sachs failed to disclose to investors vital information about the CDO, in particular the role that a major hedge fund played in the portfolio selection process and the fact that the hedge fund had taken a short position against the CDO.

Here was the scheme: a large hedge fund, Paulson & Co., paid Goldman to create a mortgage-backed security for which Paulson clandestinely chose the synthetic mortgage bonds. However, Goldman told the investors to which the shares were sold that a third-party which specialized in analyzing the credit worthiness of these synthetic mortgage bonds would be choosing the content of the security. That was the first lie.

Then, Paulson shorted the new security by entering into credit default swaps with Goldman Sachs. Paulson bet that this new security would fail if the synthetic mortgage bonds supporting it fell into default...and Paulson could benefit from that failure by correctly choosing the bad mortgage bonds it wanted. So Paulson and Goldman created a security which they intended to fail, and then Goldman sold shares to investors without disclosing that the entity which had structured the security was betting against it while other people bought it in good faith. That was another lie. And there were plenty more (see the link to the SEC complaint). Paulson would make money when the security failed and he could collect his credit-default payment; Goldman would make money from selling the security to the victims of their fraud and perhaps by taking their own adversary position; the institutional investors would lose money. But who cares about them, right? From the SEC complaint:

In sum, [Goldman Sachs] arranged a transaction at Paulson’s request in which Paulson heavily influenced the selection of the portfolio to suit its economic interests, but failed to disclose to investors, as part of the description of the portfolio selection process contained in the marketing materials used to promote the transaction, Paulson’s role in the portfolio selection process or its adverse economic interests.

The SEC is going after Goldman hard. It is seeking a permanent injunction against Goldman committing securities fraud, it wants all money earned on this fraudulent deal to be disgorged, and it wants a fine imposed. Good for the SEC.

This is why I am always so mad about the United States' financial environment. The economic crisis crested in 2008 after these kinds of practices had undermined the stability of the system for years. Wall Street banks not only bet that people would lose their homes, but they lied to their own customers and used fraud to amplify their profits. It was just standard industry practice! Think about that. The government response to this misfeasance, greed, cynicism, and ignorance--many of the bankers involved in consummating these kinds of deals never fully understood what was being exchanged--was to bail out with taxpayer money the same actors who had created the problem. Think about that! The Treasury and Fed worked together to give everyone's dollars to the kinds of bankers who would send infuriating emails like this (emphasis added):

Only potential survivor [of the housing bubble], the fabulous Fab[rice Tourre, of Goldman Sachs]…standing in the middle of all these complex, highly leveraged, exotic trades he created without necessarily understanding all of the implications of those monstruosities!!!

Since, the government has done very little to meaningfully reform the regulation system, losing a window of time during which the overwhelming impetus for change was most salient. How could the empirical evidence of such inadequate regulation not spur more aggressive actions to prevent similar errors in the future and hold those at fault accountable? How could the calamitous economic consequences not force swift reform? I suppose the answer is money and conflicts of interest: banks don't want change and they have the lobbying resources to achieve stasis. It helps, of course, that while the SEC does its job, the Treasury does nothing but coddle banks and the Fed proves itself to be the wrong entity for financial police work.

Reading the details of a subterfuge like the one that Paulson and Goldman pulled off is all the more chilling when you realize that the people who have power to make a change aren't nearly as furious as they should be.

Who Gets to Be the Mayor of No Homoville?

From Think Progress (though the bolded emphasis is mine):

Last month, the Dove World Outreach Center — a church in Gainesville, FL that attracted attention last year for erected a sign reading “Islam is of the devil” — posted a new sign stating “No homo Mayor.” The message was directed at Craig Lowe, an openly gay candidate in Gainesville’s mayoral race run-off. “We don’t feel as though the city should be represented by a homosexual,” said Terry Jones, a senior pastor at Dove World. When the media raised questions about whether such advocacy violated the church’s tax status, Dove World changed its sign to just say, “No Homo.” Despite this homophobic campaign, Gainesville elected Lowe as its newest mayor yesterday. However, he won by just 35 votes, so there will automatically be a recount. If Lowe takes office, he will be “among about 30 gay or lesbian mayors nationwide.”

Recount? Is it too late for a runoff? If Gaysinesville is going to take the time to recalculate the ballot totals, can we get some additional options? It seems as though this unassuming mayoral election was wrongly staged by not including so many deserving candidates.

Just who should be the rightful mayor of No Homoville? Straight Bangin' humbly presents several contenders:

Candidate #1: Cameron Giles


Giles, known to many as "Cam'ron," is arguably the father of the modern-day no-homo movement. It was Cam and the Diplomats who popularized the "no homo" term and who have consistently championed the cause as a counterweight to so much homoerotic behavior of their own. Giles has a proven record of no-homoism:

- From the "Get 'Em Daddy" remix: "Suck a dick. No homo."
- From "Y'All Can't Live His Life": "I'm the shit/Shit, I should rock a diaper, yo/No homo, though..."
- From "Cookies N Apple Juice": "...to get my dick wet (no homo)..."
- From his former bff Juelz's "Dipset (Santana's Town)": "Po-po and the cops again/No homo but they cockin' them..."
- From "Love My Life": "Ayo, I never claimed to be hard, tough, no homo..."
- The song "Silky (No Homo)"

For the uninitiated, here's a useful explanation of no homo and Cam:



And Cam explains it himself right here (embedding disabled). I'd say he's a leading contender. And with Cam, the voters of No Homoville would be assured of a city council packed with affiliates who are as enthusiastic about the movement as he is.

Candidate #2: John McCain


Kind of says it all, no? McCain could face a tough fight, though, from an ideological equal that is perhaps even more ignorant and confused. Witness...

Candidate #3: Tea Partiers


Perhaps you've heard of the Tea Party movement? The nominal salt-of-the-earth Republicans who nominally oppose taxes and big government but mostly seem to embrace ignorance about the issues and ugliness about social conditions? Even when they arguably should know better? The ones likely to run for mayor-by-coalition in No Homoville are the same who opposed health care reform by showering "n***er" and "f***ot" down upon Democratic legislators last month.

Not only would Tea Party people be a collectively strong candidate, but they would challenge a lot of the support McCain might otherwise enjoy. His presidential campaign and post-election obstinacy betray protestations that he's not a hard-headed fool of little substance. The kind of man who would appeal to the lingering loons who insist Obama was born elsewhere. Only, these voters now have the Tea Party. And they know they can rely on the TP folks to insinuate the no-homo agenda as necessary.

Candidate #4: Lil' Wayne


The fifth-column candidate, Wayne might be a contender for insidiously using homosexual behavior against those who would proclaim him gay. As Wayne explained in the wake of this photograph, it's kind of gay to not understand why two straight men would kiss each other on the mouth. That's the sort of mindfuck logic that could confuse voters and get them to vote for this man: Wayne would be on their minds and everyone seems to like that awful "Bedrock" song. Plus, he's a martyr now. Imagine his ascendancy in absentia as the no-homo mayor of his own little Weezyville!

Candidate #5: Gus Johnson


I love Gus, and I doubt he's homophobic. Why? Just because he seems too cool and too smart to be. His name's Gus Johnson, and he gets buckets. But still, given his fearless use of "pause," it stands to reason that he might attract the language-loving, ivory-tower, wine-and-cheese No Homoville voter who might identify with his apparent stance in defense of the anti-gay lexicon. He might be a Ralph Nader- or Ron Paul-type presence in the race, riding for the cause until the end, no matter how quixotic.

Candidate #6: Tim Tebow


If Tebow's ultra-religious, evangelical lifestyle carries with it ideological coherence, I can only imagine this man finds gay people to be an abomination because he finds that the Bible encourages him to do so. Also, let's be real: he can win any election in Gainesville.

Candidate #7: Tim Hardaway


He's famously homophobic, he is likely still very popular in the state of Florida, and as you can see, he's a card-carrying member of the No-Homo society. I'd imagine Tee-im would appoint Shavlik Randolph to be a ward leader or something. That would be fun:

TH: Shavo, what's good? How are we looking out there?

SR: Tim, hello. Thanks, again, for this job. We Heats gotta stick together, right?

TH: Heats? What are we, eating crab meats with Rick Ross? Actually, that would be a little appropriate--the whole Miami thi--whatever. Anyway, what's the good word?

SR: I am pleased to report that no one has brought their gayness on me this week. And for the year, gayness brought on other people is down to an all-time low.

TH: Any all-time low? In No Homoville? That is impressive. Good work, my man. I'd give you a hug, but that wouldn't be ironic enough to balance out the man-on-man touching.

SR: Yeah, don't bring that on me.

Good talk, guys. Vote for Tim!

Candidate #8: Lakey the Kid


A super sleeper, Lakey might be the most-qualified candidate in the field, even more so than Cam'ron. After all, Lakey has recorded what might be one the most ignorant songs ever made, an entire ode to the no-homo ideology:



That's a serious credential, and he's the only candidate with such an overwhelming campaign theme song. The man was in prison for seven years, so he might even be able to craft a stump speech so harrowing, absorbing, and vivid that voters will get lost in the power of his rhetoric and passion. He seems most likely to win the hearts and minds, if not the votes, of No Homoville.

Let's get a real recount going--no justice, no peace!

Tracy Morgan Take in a Knicks Game

I'm Brian Fellows!

Keeping It 100

I suspect that SB readers prefer it when I write about basketball or rap music, or maybe when I post humorous videos. That will come again soon--for instance, I need to talk Allen Iverson, Treme, and Game's new fake-Black-Rob-says-"Whoa" verse construction. However, I need to again digress into politics for a few moments because this is a website where keeping it real never goes wrong.

First thing: check out the gathering storm that will rain down upon Obama from liberals like me if he picks an ideologically milquetoast Supreme Court nominee. I am deeply conflicted about this.

The SCOTUS nomination process in this country is a joke. Not only has partisan rancor poisoned the system, and not only do these conventional-thinking politicians unquestioningly recreate the same empty theater for each nomination "battle," but the focus has strayed so far from what judges do that public understanding of jurisprudence has been destroyed. Judges aren't supposed to be expressly political actors, and the criteria by which they are assessed should not be tantamount to an electoral-politics personality test. Judges are asked to apply the law to ever varying sets of facts, and to then arrive at reasoned outcomes which apply respective laws. The language of the law should govern. As should the adopted common-law practices that courts have previously established. This respect for the balance of power can be irksome, of course, because the "right" decision can often be an unfortunate one. Judges need to do this, though, because it maintains the integrity of our system, it reminds the public that elections should have consequences, and it theoretically mandates smarter, better legislation. There are instances when judges need to reinterpret laws. Just as at other times, they must use their particular interpretive expertise to clarify the opacity of poorly written statutes or conventions of the law which no longer best serve society. In this margin, our nation's judges have gone astray.

In response to what was seen--fairly or unfairly--as liberal judicial activism following World War II and during the Civil Rights Era, the conservative movement in this country sought to strike back at unpopular, progressive decisions. The remedy was to use judicial power to alter laws and to infuse political and social rhetoric with stronger, more clarion Conservative ideals. This led to the ascension of people like Robert Bork and Antonin Scalia. These jurists, turning accusations of improper "judicial activism"--that would be "legislating from the bench" to protect, say, abortion rights--into a shield, and wielding originalist theory--that would be the insistence that laws be applied as written without any regard for sociocultural context--as a sword, have fought for the Conservative agenda with zeal and without any apologies. Typically impotent, Liberals have tried to fight back, only without as much recent success. (One reason might be because Liberals have demonstrated greater respect for the system and the application of law, which tends to reward those with the better facts. Liberals often have the better facts but fail to leverage them. I am a Liberal; I know I am biased. But I wouldn't be a Liberal if I didn't feel that the ideology best accommodate truth and justice.)

So on the one hand, I wish that the judiciary, in general, and the Supreme Court, in particular, were less politicized. It would be nice if the focus were on picking judges who are good at lawyering and judging, equipped with excellent credentials and demonstrated sound reasoning. On the other, if this corrupted system is the one which Conservatives want and will insist upon, then Liberals need to man up and respond to Conservative actions with equal and opposite reactions. Conservatives aren't going away.

That's why Obama can't pick someone who will judge the way that the President has governed. Rational application of the law which accounts for changing social dynamics cannot afford a middle-of-the-road jurist who will fail to engage and prod his or her colleagues. Justice Stevens used his opinions to thoroughly articulate his reasoning and his questions to argue with his peers. He never settled for a good effort; he was committed to examining issues and fighting for consensus in the service of what he thought was right. The Court needs someone who will take up that important work--and do so in a Liberal tradition--because Justice Roberts is, in fact, a judicial activist who is unembarrassed by eviscerating precedent in service of his personal agenda. And he can count on Scalia, Thomas, and Alito to work with him in lockstep almost all the time, forever advancing the atavistic rhetoric that is hostile to social equality, civil rights, and balanced power.

Second thing: please read about Sarah Palin's personal requirements for speaking engagements. This should be included in any coverage of her professing to be in the trenches with the "real Americans." Most down-on-their-luck folks surely require first-class plane tickets, three hotel rooms, and pre-screened questions.

Third thing: I am handing in my late pass and sharing with you this pithy, sad, accurate encapsulation of the Obama administration. George Packer, always on point, wrote this a few weeks ago:

"But the key to Obama's first year is the Recovery Act. It set the pattern for everything that followed: intelligent but cautious policymaking; legislative compromises that watered down the bill's impact without enlisting more than a tiny number of Republicans; an immediate campaign by opposition politicians and media to declare the program a failure; a weak, uncoordinated Administration effort to explain and champion the stimulus package; gradual public disillusionment."

Fourth thing: peep Jon Stewart, once again doing all the work for journalists:

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
That's Tariffic
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Tea Party

Why isn't this being discussed?

Money Blown

At lunch last week, I told a friend that I carry around seething intellectual anger about the financial collapse. Every day, I wind up stewing about this somehow--through the news, through my securities regulation course, through being a generally informed citizen. I rage against two factors in particular: the brazen misfeasance of Wall Street and the inadequate regulatory policy response in the wake of the destruction. First, a word about why: I think it's very, very bad, of course, that individual citizens were taking out mortgages they couldn't afford, neglecting to save any money, and relying on home refinancing to wring every bit of equity out of a house and into a new television, a new motorcycle, and a new china set. Or whatever people buy. Only, parsing through how everyday folks spend money helps to direct my anger toward the targets which I think are most deserving of it.

Life is expensive. You need a place to live, and that is a monthly expense, either in rent or mortgage payments. Then you need food, clothes, and other things that aren't free. If you're an American, you're socialized from birth to think that you need--even deserve--a panoply of creature comforts: television, movies, dining out, cultural attractions, vacations. It's almost unfathomable to conjure an idea of life wholly devoid of these things, all of which cost money and require regular contributions to the system. To say nothing of the fact that as a society, we probably want citizens to enjoy mental stimulation, to cultivate passions, to merely use the internets to read about what's going on in the world. When you have kids, the effect is more pronounced. Not only do you need to educate and amuse your children, but you need to satiate their consumer impulses, and marketers know how to push those buttons. You can feel the shame of inadequacy if you can't give your kids what they want.

There's more. In most American places, to live with any sort of convenience, and often to satisfy the commitments that come with a job and a family, you need a car. A "household" probably needs more than one. Not only in the suburbs, either. Growing up in New York, I always assumed that to live in a city was to primarily rely on public transportation. Then I spent time in Detroit, in St. Louis, in Seattle, in San Francisco, and I realized that even urban settings, with all of their relative density, all but demanded a car for a full life. Underfunded public transit populated by the homeless, the impoverished, and the mentally ill has created a vicious cycle that kills its reasonableness in most cities. Cars not only cost money up front, but they also place liens on your wallet. You owe your car financing, insurance, gas, maintenance, and even a parking spot at times.

Everything described in the preceding two paragraphs is a narrow view, too. These are the expenses of a Tuesday. What about big-ticket items, like education? Public schools in many cities are awful, and alternatives are expensive. Even if your local school system is adequate, perhaps there are other reasons to opt for private education. And then, college is a potentially bankrupting necessity. High-school education may be the Maginot Line to cross in order to find the safety of employment potential, but college is the social escalator to the kinds of jobs which afford a middle-class lifestyle. And don't stop there. Health care is expensive--for employers and for individuals. People without health insurance who incur serious injuries or illness go poor while paying to remain alive, in essence. Then there is retirement planning, weddings, vacations, graduations, furniture sets. Life is expensive.

Enjoying this kind of life is a social expectation. There is room for some differences, and living this life in a comparatively frugal fashion is possible. For example, a person can get a couch on Craigslist, bring lunch to work, buy a used car, go to a cheap local college, and take other cost-cutting steps. But those are all solutions for the fixed costs of an entrenched system. When you add up all of the considerations and expenses, then, you get a picture of high stress, high anxiety, and high stakes. The pressure to provide, to succeed, just to survive, even, compels people to max out credit cards and subsidize spending through leverage. The pressure to fit into one of life's archetypes slyly poisons sensibilities until being overextended on a loan seems like a worthwhile risk to take. Especially if it might one day create a cushion that insulates from the extreme economic pressures of being an American adult. Maybe treading water long enough will allow you to find a way to pay off a house that seems destined to end up under water.

Recognizing these difficulties doesn't excuse the mistakes. One of the things at which I bristle most often when participating in conversations about the economy is the idea that acknowledging how individuals make bad financial choices absolves them of responsibility for them. It doesn't. People should not spend lavishly if they can't afford to do so. People shouldn't buy houses they can't realistically afford. And people should have to bear the burden of their bad choices. Credit card companies that charge exorbitant fees, creditors who never fail to repossess collateral through individual bankruptcy proceedings, and people who wail about personal responsibility surely agree. Everyone says that these individual debtors, these individuals who took mortgages they couldn't afford after being absolved of putting up collateral they didn't have, should have known better. You don't do the crime if you can't do the time.

This, then, is why I get so angry: why do banks get to play by different rules? Worse, why does the government, the actor upon which we rely to maintain order and enforce punishment, collude with the banks?



Ten days ago, Talking Points Memo reported that the Federal Reserve clandestinely assumed the risk for tens of billions of dollars in bad loans issued by Bear Stearns so that it could be acquired by JP Morgan more easily. This took place in secret before the government was ever authorized to spend taxpayer money on the toxic assets banks created through greed and recklessness. The Fed did the same for AIG--the same AIG that was cynically selling insurance against Americans defaulting on their mortgages; that cratered the financial system when it became illiquid through its own mismanagement; that will not be subjected to criminal prosecution.

Let's be clear: the United States' central bank's most important branch--then run by the current Secretary of the Treasury--told investment bankers, "While no one is looking, we are going to use taxpayer money to fix your avaricious fuck ups. You folks created a market for securities you didn't understand, you made money by betting against products you were selling, you lost track of how much risk you had incurred, and you then came to the precipice of failure. But it ain't a thang--we got you. Other people, the little people, can be forced to deal with the consequences of their actions. You folks can continue doing what you want. We'll say you're 'too big to fail.'"

Are you fucking kidding me? These financial institutions got secret debt relief on top of the taxpayer money they later got to stay afloat. The same money they all paid back just in time to post record profits while unemployment, home foreclosures, and bankruptcies soared? While plying their trade using all kinds of nefarious and galling practices? How can someone not be furious?

Even worse, how can someone hope for Tim Geithner, Ben Bernanke, and their inner circles of conflicted advisers to deliver meaningful reform for a system that is so clearly and dangerously broken? These are the watchdogs who enabled the entire crisis and public fraud to begin with. The SEC gets it; it is trying to bring accountability and transparency to the system. But the Fed and Treasury are industry lapdogs. The Fed committed a constitutional violation to save Wall Street from it's own greed and ineptitude. How can anyone trust that sort of leadership to make a serious difference?

The entire circumstance makes me dismayed. The sense of powerlessness I feel as I look at these entrenched oligarchs covering their asses and perpetuating a broken cycle is crushing. Constructive reform is stalling, the right ideas are marginalized instead of fought for, and the urgency which might have galvanized real change is slipping away as time marches on. We are going to wind up back where we started. Perhaps a piece of legislation with a catchy nickname will be passed with hollow ceremony, and maybe executives will have their compensation deferred or mitigated in some capacity, but nothing is really going to change. Not when Geithner, Bernanke, Obama, and everyone else who could hold bankers accountable in the way that our entire economic system demands of everyday individuals instead grandstands and ultimately shrinks into the comfort of the familiar.

Tell 'em why you mad, son!

Losing It

N.B: This site's usual television critic, The Buckets, surely will be weighing in with one of her exhaustive Lost reflection pieces at some point as that program steams toward its finale. However, she currently is hard at work composing what I hope will be a thorough television exegesis about Survivor. Now in its twentieth season, that show remains as captivating as ever. It is appointment viewing for her, me, some of our best friends, and the other acolytes privileged to recognize its singular greatness. Her ruminations about the show and the particular controversies of this season are imminent. For now, you have me.

At this point, I can't remember what I first liked about Lost, or why I started watching it. All I recall is that once I was driving in a car with my friend Andrew, and he implored me to watch this new show about a plane that crashed on a tropical island.

I had read about it and understood Lost was considered a nascent innovation in television storytelling, but I was hesitant, feeling overburdened by other pop-culture obligations. Somehow, though, I got caught up in the show. For a while, I thought there might be a dinosaur roaming the island and eating people, which I assumed was the fate that befell the pilot of Oceanic 815. I was excited by that because I am a child and have spent far too much time celebrating more than my fair share of science fiction. Basically, I hung around hoping to see a tyrannosaurus. I also thought that perhaps the writers had crafted some intricate, creative scientific exploration that would animate cool laws of physics and fuse them with paleontology, philosophy, quirks of religion, and other things that get collected in the minds of writers with liberal-arts degrees. Ultimately, I thought Lost would produce something truly rare: a detailed, layered, episodic plot that was fully formed, slowly revealed, and carefully choreographed.

Season One ended with me enthralled. What was in that hatch? Then Season Two happened, and I was both intrigued and enraged. Intrigued by the Others, by Walt, by Desmond, by Eko, by electromagnetism, by Locke, and by everything else that the show is going to leave largely unresolved while it tells love stories. Enraged by the wholly detestable Ana Lucia character, by Sayid's implausible relationship with Shannon, by the pace of the storytelling, by the constant slo-mo montage endings, by Jack's inability to express any emotion without making that on-the-verge-of-tears face, by Kate being a protagonist despite being an awful human, by Charlie being so worthless, by Claire being so boring.

For better or worse, Season Two set the course for the duration of Lost. I settled into this dichotomy of emotion, simultaneously loving the show for coming close to being truly satisfying and loathing it for regularly getting in its own way. Season Three was fantastic...except for when it wasn't. We got to learn about Ben, a complicated and wonderfully devious character, but had to pay the price of suffering through Kate's torturous and self-serving meddling. Season Four gave us new science, new time, new venues, new conflicts, and new characters, but Lost incurred so much debt in the process that the show became over leveraged. In essence, the show increased the rate at which it was writing checks that the closing two seasons would have to cash, and those bets seemed like long shots even as they were made. Particularly because for all of the exciting developments, the show would veer off inconveniently so that it could develop an emotional context that might be necessary for television drama but was far too costly when managing such a complicated story. Look at the list of questions that remain unresolved as of today and had accumulated by the end of Season Four:

SEASON ONE
- Where did Christian's body go?
- Who were the skeletons in the cave?
- The disease to which Rousseau refers is just the mental degeneration portrayed in Season Five as being brought on by the smoke monster, or is it something else? Did they ever explain the vaccinations?
- Why do pregnant women die on the island?
- What’s with the forest whispering?

SEASON TWO
- Quarantine sign on hatch door--just to convince inhabitants of potentially phony "sickness"? Because of electromagnetic pocket?
- Who were the DeGroots? Do we ever need to know? And same with Alvar Hanso?
- Michael talks to Walt through computer--they never explain this. Was it even Walt or just the Others trying to dupe Michael? Why does the text with Walt go off the screen as Jack sees it? It wasn't meant to be a hallucination, was it?
- How did the actual Henry Gale get to the island?
- What were the Others doing with Walt? How did they know he was special? What is his power? Why do they question if Michael is his biological father?
- How does Penny know where to station those Russian guys in the north pole to detect the anomaly? How does she know to look for an electromagnetic anomaly? Why do they have to be in that region of the world to detect it in the first place?

SEASON THREE
- Why were the Others building a runway?
- John wakes up from hatch implosion and tells Charlie that John must speak to the island--does the implosion change Locke's understanding in some way? Maybe unlock something, like it allowing Desmond to become clairvoyant?
- How/why does Desmond become clairvoyant?
- Why was Ethan at Juliet's sister's apartment in Miami? How was he able to get in?
- Does Ms. Hawking tell Desmond what she does to manipulate fate, and make it happen, or because she just knows it will happen anyway? How does she know he will go to the island?
- Why don't the food air drops keep happening? Who handles/carries out the food air drops?
- What is the "magic box" Ben uses to bring Locke's dad to the island? How did the Others know to have him? Ben says that the box is a "metaphor," but how did they know to grab Anthony Cooper? And if he really did appear somehow, then how?
- How does Ben cure Juliet's sister's cancer? Did he doctor the chart he showed Juliet as proof of recurrence?
- Ben tells Locke that Locke brought his dad there--how?

SEASON FOUR
- Faraday watches plane recovery on TV while crying—why is he crying?
- Who is the Economist?
- Who is the R.G. inscribed on Naomi's bracelet?
- What's with all of Ben's money and passports? Where does the money come from? How are the Others so well-connected and well-financed off the island?
- How does Desmond's mind travel relate to the rest of the show's time travel theories?
- Penny says she knows about island and was researching--how did she research it? What did she consult? Whom did she consult?
- How does Parker Stanhope (Goodwin’s wife who appears to Juliet) get a message from Ben while he's Locke's hostage? How does Ben know Faraday and Charlotte would go to Tempest? Michael on the boat is able to figure/find that out? And what even happened to Parker? Does she matter?
- Will the show explain why "the island won't let" Michael kill himself? That's not acceptable as an unexplained reason for anything
- How do the Others get the records that "prove" that Widmore staged the wreck?
- Ben says it's not his first time in Tunisia "but that it's been a while"--when else was he there? Did he turn the wheel before?
- Why can’t Ben kill Widmore?
-What's the significance of Horace building Jacob's cabin?
- How does Ben know how to move the island? To blow hole in the white pod? If it's been done before, who rebuilt the pod?
- Is it ever going to be significant that Widmore knows Sun's father?
- How does Widmore originally find out that 815 crashed on the island?

That's too many. Not only had the show settled into the discouraging habit of focusing its attention on many stories that the audience didn't prioritize, but Lost had gotten so tangled up in mythology which often seemed to be invented on the fly, not preplanned, that the entire premise of the program was undermined. The initial faith it had encouraged--Trust us to show you something cool--was not being rewarded.

(And wait a minute--that's so meta! It's just like the characters on the show being tested over their beliefs by seemingly omnipotent powers, like Jacob. Whoa. Mindfuck. As I was saying...)

Season Five saw Lost achieve a whole new level of vexation. While making fun of itself and its audience for only half-understanding so many topics and dwelling upon so much minutiae, the show nonetheless introduced a time-travel plot device that was nearly incomprehensible. It was so Raven Lost that it was perversely excusable. We looked on last year knowing that Season Six would be the show's denouement, and as a result, the audience could suspend disbelief, anger, and dismay while awaiting Season Six with knowingly unrealistic hopes of clarity and finality. So, like many people, I just incredulously went along with a show that was content to tell its audience that one day, we'd appreciate why a mother would send her son back to an island so that she could shoot and kill him in a past time to which he would travel after a series of bizarre and fantastic events. (If you don't watch Lost and don't understand what that last sentence means, you should start tuning in on Tuesday nights because you now basically know as much as most fans.)

Season Six finally arrived in February, and it started inauspiciously. Time was ticking, answers were few and far between. Kate was stealing cars, Claire was being superfluous, and we weren't getting scenes of the experiments done with Walt or the back story about what Charles Widmore did once exiled from the island. Most of my friends who watch Lost were throwing up their hands in disappointment and resigning to the fact that the show would not deliver on most of its promises. Look at the list of questions which Lost created last season alone, after already having delayed so many answers:

SEASON FIVE
- How does the wheel get embedded in the rock behind the Orchid Station?
- Who is trying to kill Sayid and Hurley off the island? Men hired by Widmore?
- Why is Desmond “uniquely and miraculously special” so that rules don’t apply to him?
- Who's the lady in the butcher shop who helps Ben? How does she know what's going on?
- How did Charlotte know about the well? From when she was a child on the island?
- Who built the Lamppost? Widmore? If Dharma, why did they build it in a church?
- Had Kate and Sawyer not brought Ben to Richard, would Ben have died? Would there have been some other course correction that brought Ben to the Others? Hard to reconcile the course correction with "whatever happened happened," as the latter implies that Jack et al. had to go "back" in 2007 so that they could fulfill 1977 roles
- How do Ilana and Bram know their crate will survive the crash? Will be in same time as them?
- Why can Ben go back to island while Widmore can't if they both know Hawking?
- How did Faraday get back to Ann Arbor in 1974?
- What did Faraday learn while back in Ann Arbor?
- Faraday's mother knew when she encouraged him to return to the island that she would end up shooting him in 1977?
- If the Faraday theory was right and the bomb neutralized the energy, meaning that the button was never necessary and 815 never crashed, how did the theory account for the 1977 Jack, Sawyer, et al? Would they have just ceased to exist in that time?

These questions weren't being answered, either.

A superficial salvation has arrived in the past month. Locke has gotten gully, moving the central good-and-evil narrative along in the process. The tension that will play out for characters including Jack, Sawyer, and Hurley has found some dimension. The link between the island time line and the off-island reset time line has been established. We've even learned more about Richard (though not nearly enough). And now, with six episodes left until the series finale, we know that what happens on the island will determine if what we're seeing off the island comes to pass. The link will be Desmond, whose consciousness-shifting mind will allow him to work on the island to prevent his off-island self from existing in the first place. And that off-island self will be his own accomplice. That makes no sense; I know. The answer, apparently, is love. At least, that's what the show says.

It's a terrible consolation, isn't? All of those questions above are going to twist in the wind. A few--the most fundamental--will get answered directly. Some others will ultimately resolve themselves in the secondary reasoning that arises after Lost concludes its narration. If nothing else, Lost's primary figures will all see their tales wrapped up with heavy-handed morality lessons.

But people like me will come away sorely disappointed. The artful manipulation of science? The fusion of engrossing disciplines, like theology and philosophy? It will all be hollow treatment. Questions that hinted at exciting explanations will lay fallow without cultivation. The anticipation of a mysterious strand, or even woven fabric, uniting Lost's many influences will have transformed into unwarranted nervous energy.

Looking back on my Lost experience, I feel like some chump who was taken in by a pop-culture ponzi scheme. Each season, Lost came to me seeking out new capital, the currency needed to sustain the preceding frauds. And each season, I'd pay into the system, expecting a big payday down the line. But now that the new money has run out, the show's deceit is laid bare for the audience. For all of the show's mystique, drama, and short-term enthrallment, Lost will ultimately seem like a great idea gone awry. And worse, the warning signs were always there, only I never wanted to see them.

New Music for James Bond Rap Nerds

I am an unembarrassed fan of many things: Yoo-Hoo!, Lord of the Rings, reporting that exposes banking misfeasance (more on that tomorrow), Jordan XI's, The Life and Times of Tim. Et cetera. Included in the last category--the pile of sundry--is the music from James Bond movies. Here's proof.

Apparently, I am not the only one. A DJ named Shy Guy has put together a mixtape of rap instrumentals crafted from the Bond movie theme songs. It's a cool project, particularly for Bond stans. So enjoy, yentas.* You can download the tape here. Peep the teaser:



*Yenta has a fixed meaning, of course. However, since Cam'ron uses it almost indiscriminately on Twitter, I thought I'd help him out. Dip Set verbal appropriation is a movement!

Sometimes It's Just Nice to Know That We Know

There are two kinds of basketball stories which I find most interesting: those about historic greatness and those that illustrate the compelling nature of tragic flaws. The first category is not unique to basketball. I have always been captivated by the idea of witnessing historic greatness--in golf, in baseball, in football, in track, in almost anything. Actively observing a singular athletic accomplishment is viscerally exciting most of the time. I was compelled to root for the UConn women for this reason. I was hoping that the Huskies not only would win two consecutive national titles while undefeated, but also that they go on to win at least eleven games at the start of next season and set a new record for all-time consecutive wins across men's and women's basketball. That would be amazing on a truly historic scale.

The other kind of basketball stories are not unique to the sport, either, however basketball appears to be a context in which they are uniquely animated. In baseball and in football there are athletes for whom you root because their personal failures or professional limitations would make their success especially rewarding. Someone overcoming a sad family life, or finally getting over the proverbial hump despite regularly doing all else otherwise required makes for a fond fan attachment. Baseball and football are rigid team sports, though. A great quarterback, a gifted wide receiver, a dominating cornerback--these are individuals who rely on many others. Football players don't even get to play on both sides of the ball. In baseball, the interdependence is almost as pronounced. Rightfielders can't cover for the catcher, and they can't bat out of order if they're hot. Those sports don't contemplate the triumph of the individual.

Basketball does. Great teams will still vanquish great players, but the concepts of cooperation, equality, and accountability are far more malleable to accommodate individual greatness. An elite basketball player can switch his defensive assignments in the course of a game to lock up a dangerous scorer. Just as he can take a higher volume of shots if his skills merit that sort of offensive domination. In no team sport can an individual wield as much power. Accordingly, it is easier to hold basketball players accountable, and, when considering my favorite narratives, to scrutinize an individual as he works through his conflicts.

For me, Scottie Pippen will forever embody these ideas. He represents everything I have ever loved about basketball. Quickly, let me dispense with the elements of his appeal:

First, Scottie was an aspirational fellow, one who started with nothing, emerged from obscurity, and refused to settle for merely arriving. He won six titles but bristled at being a second fiddle, so he sought out even greater acclaim as a leading man. He got rich but was nonetheless seduced by true wealth, something he learned from Paul Allen. That sort of tale, with all of its nuanced social implications, was incredible, particularly because it played out as I grew up. Scottie's journey and signature moments were a canvas of sorts, one which symbiotically accommodated the new ideas I would project and play with as I earned my own education about life, society, and basketball.

Second, I love swingmen--they live the possibilities of basketball and illustrate its graceful beauty. Scottie was among the best of them, before, during, and since his time on the hallowed hardwood. Were the Sistine Chapel's ceiling re-imagined for the basketball set, surely God's index finger would imbue the spirit of the game into Pip. He was an innovator on defense, a player who often imposed a devastating one-man zone thanks to his long limbs and agile movements. On offense, he was no less versatile and fluid. Pippen's range of skills--the handle and passing instincts of a guard, the serviceable jumper of a scorer, the slashing grace of the best forwards--made him both dynamic and frustrating.

And that's the crux of it, the thing which made Scottie so compelling, and such an icon in my life. Someone so talented, a man who manipulated the game so effectively, always left me, along with his legion of fans and detractors, perplexed as to why he wasn't more dominant. Michael Jordan was always the proximate answer to this question in Chicago. But in Portland, the heralded all-time great who had arrived to lead a young corps of volatile talents settled into an old role. Something of a basketball Nestor, Scottie had the game and the brain (who ever had a higher basketball IQ?) to be a leading man, but he never seemed to have the heart, or the temperament, or the something. In Portland it was the same story--and even the same colors! That image of Scottie clawing at a pile of towels on his way into the Portland locker room after Game Three if the 2000 Western Conference Finals is a fitting summation: unadulterated frustration at the threshold of greatness. For all his wisdom and value, he was nonetheless forever marginalized to some degree.

Considering all those elements--his yearning, his talent, and his failures--Scottie was captivating, sympathetic, and always my favorite. He probably always will be. His election to the Hall of Fame provided odd vindication for the entire Pippen experience. He will be rightfully immortalized for his strengths, and we will forever be afforded the chance to consider a basketball player in every sense.

Happy Easter

Just for Easter, the man who disappeared too early and whose return would be welcomed now that Duke is playing Butler tomorrow night.

Even I Find This Ridiculous

You know what this is about. Let me just make sure that I have all the facts straight so that I can be properly annoyed. I am going to ask a few questions, and anyone should feel free to tell me if I am wrong about any of this. Here we go:

ESPN and ABC are the NBA's primary broadcast partners, right?

ESPN is launching its New York-focused microsite today, right?

New York City is the largest media market in the United States, right?

LeBron James is the biggest star in the NBA, right?

LeBron James joining the Knicks would be an ongoing spectacle likely to increase fan interest in basketball, thereby giving the NBA a more valuable product for which ESPN can pay more money so that it can then capture more eyeballs across its media empire, right?

We're all good with that? Yes? OK, so if that all checks out, it's probably fair, then, to assume that this conversation took place somewhere in Bristol, CT:

Annoying ESPN Person #1: I've got a dynamite idea for how we can launch our new, worthless NY-focused website. How about we run a front-page story on the main ESPN site with a picture of LeBron in a Knicks jersey--

Annoying ESPN Person #2: LeBron in a Knicks jersey?!

[Gets up off floor. Stands chair back up.]

Sorry, I fell out of my seat.

Annoying ESPN Person #1: Yeah I saw that.

Annoying ESPN Person #2: I just couldn't help myself. LeBron in a Knicks jersey! That picture will kill! We will get a lot of traffic from that. People will tweet it! Maybe he could be scaling the Empire State Building? Rebuilding 9/11?! Sorry, continue.

Annoying ESPN Person #1: Sure. Here's the part I think you'll really like. We run this great photo, and we attach it to a story that maybe, sorta, mostly argues LeBron will sign in New York this offseason as though it's his destiny.

Annoying ESPN Person #2: I like it, but what will it say? Gallinari is looking up? McGrady is finding his old form, and the Knicks have some basketball assets with which to entice James?

Annoying ESPN Person #1: No. Even better--we put on the hard sell. We get Ian O'Connor to write a story about other famous people from New York, or who live in New York, and would like for LeBron to join the Knicks because they think it would be cool. The story will have all the usual stuff--New York is glitzy. New York is good for LeBron's business plans. Other rich people live in New York. That last point will be key. I really think that the story will be good if we can get create the image of, like, Derek Jeter partying with LeBron and Eli Manning. That is a fantasy for now, but think how cool that is. Girls, bottles of champagne, velvet ropes--people eat that shit up.

Annoying ESPN Person #2: That is cool. And it really sells the New York game to our audience. To say nothing of LeBron, himself. God, that would be great for us, wouldn't it? LeBron in New York? 25 games a year with that media market. Oh man.

Annoying ESPN Person #1: I know. So we should run with this idea, right?

Annoying ESPN Person #2: Of course! I love it. It's so New York, it's so ESPN, it's so King James. I like how strongly this reinforces all of those brands. And it's great for the new website.

Some particulars may vary, but that was probably the conversation, right?

Here is the dumb O'Connor article, distilled down to its primary elements: Willis Reed is a country boy who'd like to see LeBron in New York. So would Mark Messier. You know, because those are relevant opinions. Also, St. Louis Blues owner and former MSG president Dave Checketts thinks it would be cool if Eli Manning and Derek Jeter told LeBron to come. Reggie Jackson says his legacy is bigger for having played in New York. Brian Cashman, a baseball general manager who signed California-native C.C. Sabbathia for the Yankees, says it would be cool. And Donnie Walsh kinda needs to sign LeBron, or else his homecoming stint with the Knicks will be for naught.

See, Lebron? You need to sign with the Knicks because a bunch of retired people, celebrities, and executives from other sports think it would be cool. It's gonna be all cool, all the time. Never mind that they even admit that there are few compelling basketball reasons. That is the crack reporting that inspired a misleading headline, merited placement as ESPN's feature for the day,and is the crown jewel of the ESPN New York launch. In other words, this is a big day for ESPN--there is a new, superfluous product to promote! All the rubes and mouthbreathers in New York finally have a real source of news! So just go along with this journalistic charade.

And seriously, please do sign with the Knicks this summer. It will make a lot of people a lot of money, and it will give ESPN's redundant, talking-point fueled media agglomeration an endless supply of headlines. THERE IS A NEW WEBSITE TO PROMOTE.

I hate this so much. (As if you couldn't tell.) To be fair, there is a decent companion piece that more thoroughly and intelligently considers LeBron's varied motivations, a dichotomy that could perhaps compel him to leave Cleveland. And I've even said that New York, as a basketball haven, holds unique sway for its ethereal, organic attachment to the game.

But that's not what ESPN cares about, and that's not where ESPN places its focus. ESPN just wants to elevate celebrities and glitz as the primary storyline. It just wants to rehash tired ideas without anything new that's materially relevant, repackaging this idiocy with shiny things like Yankees past and present. That's neither a news story nor a sports story--that's TMZ reporting undertaken to strengthen the company's own conflicting financial interest in the entire ordeal. The brazen flouting of standards or objectivity is what I find most provocative. ESPN wants LeBron in New York, so it manufactures "news" in the absence of anything concrete. That, and the fact that we needed this website because...uh...New York suffers from a dearth of attention? Especially in sports reporting?

Fuck you, ESPN. Thank you for the Knicks pornography, but otherwise, fuck you.