Category Archives: Ridiculosity

Why be positive when you make fun of things: “This pic of Kanye and his smirk mob” edition.

(in order of ridiculousness)

I want everyone to get paid, and I want the music to be good. Otherwise, stop bothering me with PR monkey business. And um actually I do NOT HAVE TO respect your conglomerate, so stop trying to get me to do so.

G.O.O.D. is now part of Def Jam; without the foolish clothing choices above documented on film, this news would have no impact on my life. What exactly is the point of this venture, please? It appears to be a completely unnecessary partnership, since labels will be ghostville soon, very soon, probably by the end of this post, correct? Is this all just anticipatory PR for Watch the Throne, an album about which I cannot seem to care even a tiny bit? (Yes, probably). Will I ever tire of hearing about the time Russ bailed out Slick Rick? (NOPE). Will I always want to name a mixtape Rick Rubin’s Dorm Room? (I will). If a pirate had a Def Jam shirt, would I be hard on his tip? (No doubt). And which one of the gentlemen above has dressed himself in the most ridiculous fashion? (See below).

5th-most ridiculous: Barry Weiss, Chairman & CEO of Island/Def Jam, probable industry shyster. MacKaye and El-P are good guys, but a girl can’t trust anyone else who runs a label. (You know you gotta read the label. You gotta read the label. If you don’t read the label, you might get poisoned. Tommy ain’t my Boy, etc., etc.)

Jeans, button-up, blazer. Age-appropriate. There’s nothing interesting or threatening about Barry’s outfit. I mean, it’s boring, and that’s offensive, but he’s certainly not trying too hard and I can appreciate that. He was dressed by the costumer at Law & Order: SVU from the 2001 episode where the hip label executive gets murdered (in a twist, it was the mild-mannered assistant who did it! NOT the label’s star rapper with a history of petty crimes, like Benson and Stabler initially thought).

Chance that I would sleep with him based on his appearance in this photo: 1%. Barry and I don’t have any of the same records and he wouldn’t get my jokes. Plus he seems a little tightly wound. Barry’s the type to have weird fetishes, but not because he really enjoys them; it’s that he’s dead inside and he’s trying to use AB/DL to fill up the emptiness where feelings used to be. I am not the one to be used as a weekend sex pet for an older, pasty man with relationship baggage. Go home to your wife, Barry.

4. K. West, musical person, overall annoyance, attention-seeker. Good at his job but boring as fuck (see also: Kobe, Tiger, Dan Patrick, Beyonce, my mechanic).

Chance that I would let him see me naked based on his appearance in this photo: 6%. He’s pouting; it’s his signature face move and it does not make me want to take my clothes off. His priorities are fucked up; he spent more time selecting that jacket – Balmain? Comme des Garcons? – than he did selecting quality rappers for his label (please see #3, below). He’s a little too meticulous with the instructions he gives his barber; though I like that the hairdo is tight & right, the goatee is just a romance killer. And he would not care to see me naked, anyway. Kanye’s not gay or straight; he is truly so disinterested in anyone other than himself that he’s sexless. Asexual I guess is the better term. The Morrissey of bitchy insecure rap – whatever that is in one word, that’s what Kanye is. Still, I give him 6% rather than 0% because it would be cool to talk shop with him for a few minutes, maybe – the production stylings of Norman Whitfield, where is Teddy Riley, that sort of thing. Also, Kanye could really kind of do it to your ear canal back in the day, remember? When he first came out with his solo stuff? I listened to “Through the Wire” yesterday which was like self-punishment because I know it’s only going to make me whine for 2004 Kanye. And that is, in fact, exactly what happened.

3. Big Sean, G.O.O.D. signee, boring rapper who won’t be around next year, and person whose name appears to be misleading. Big Sean, he calls hisself. Kanye’s about 5’8″ (“Height can be anywhere from 5’4 – 5’9″ is part of his casting decree for ladies in his videos; he doesn’t want to look diminutive, ha), Swizz looks maybe 6’2″? 6’3”? Nice try with the moniker, Sean. Is this the kind of thing where really big guys get the nickname “Tiny”? And no, I haven’t overlooked the belt, jacket, pinky ring, or Morris Day facial expression/hand pose combo. It’s just that they speak for themselves. Analysis is unnecessary. (I tend to overdo it in posts, so I’m trying to calm down a little. This is me, evolving.)

Chance that I would eat a meal or get coffee with him based on his appearance in this photo: Initially? 14%. If he had worn that Red Wings hat like in the “My Last” video, because I love fans who actually wear the home team’s gear? 18%.

Unfortunately, I cannot un-see this photo. Final odds, then? 0%.

2. Swizz Beatz, producer with some type of confusing Reebok affiliation that I can’t get a handle on.

After winning the “most Zs in the game” contest back in ’98, deciding to sport a bun/tiny braid combo, then marrying a famous lady for some promo, Swizzy has of late begun dressing like a Diamond store customer circa ’07. This is still how most of the rad dudes in LA dress, making it impossible for me to respect them as people (even though they are rad). Some of them mix it up, throw in some tube socks or a nice button-up, but overall the simple beauty of a T and jeans combo has been foresaken by the gentlemen of this metropolis. Also hardly anybody can drive stick anymore; can you believe that? I will surely die celibate, my hips going to waste, clutching my precious records for warmth as I sit on my couch. ANYWAY, I know what you’re thinking: that hat! But it’s actually a plus for me. I did not care for the bobble-head look of 2002-2008 (this might’ve been a regional thing, however – not sure if other cities saw this trend). Swizzy’s ill-fitting Reebok snapback of 2011 that reminds a girl of the ill-fitting head pieces of rap ghosts? SO TITE. It’s also obviously a Len Bias tribute (super tight). But that shirt. EGAD. It’s the shirt that shoots him to the top of the list. Presented without further commentary: FASHION ART MUSIC. (JESUS IS MY HOMEBOY was in the laundry pile)

Chance that I would make eye contact with him across a crowded room based on his appearance in this photo: 7%. He’s married and chose to wear a shirt that says FASHION ART MUSIC by his own free will, but he has nice strong facial features. He’s got an interesting look. And you have heard Civic bangers “Get It On the Floor” and “Drink N My 2 Step,” have you not? Hell, for such achievements, Swizz gets a nice round 10%.

1. Kid Cooties, annoyance, recreational coke user who wants us to believe he’s one step away from John Belushing his career and has tried to fold this into his overall identity as an artist to detract from the fact that he is so, so dull. Also, like all these little boys today running around with the name “Cody,” time is not going to be kind to grown-ups who have “Kid” as part of their MC name.

Chance I would slZERO FUCKING PERCENT. The jeans are fine; nothing wrong with a pair of jeans. Classic, understated. But the blazer over the t-shirt is stupid; either wear a suit or keep your kit casual. Commit one way or another, please. The Stones t-shirt is boring, and oh and look, it’s the return of the fucking blond Jesus piece; if either of these items are worn in earnest, they are unacceptable. There is nothing acceptable about the notion that a pale-skinned Jesus actually existed, except for the fact that X-Clan and PRT made some good songs in response. And the only acceptable parts of the Rolling Stones are the Marianne Faithfull days (and the name Marianne Faithfull), Anita Pallenberg’s unstoppable white-girl steezyness, the Gram Parsons stuff, Peter Tosh in that video, Full Metal Jacket‘s closing credits, and the first 40 seconds of “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking.” Even if both of Cudi’s items are worn with ironic intentions they are unacceptable, as it is a fact that irony died in ’08. And oh lord, Cudi’s hat in the picture. I believe the god Mingus wrote a song suggesting that this trend die.


Oh Word: “ranking the performances on that ‘Racks’ remix that’s 12 goddamn minutes long” edition

I guess I didn’t realize that just ‘cause you promised em a spot on your song means you better find a way to fit em ALL on your song. From the “Fuck off; I love it” collection, this one fascinates and entertains me because of its odd mix – 17 DEEP! – of terrible rappers and fantastic ones. Nickatina, KRS, Earl S. and Lil’ ½ Dead were all too busy, I guess.

Ranking the performances on the “Racks on Racks” remix, in order of lyrical strength and overall auditory enjoyment. LEH’GO:

17. Wiz “15 Minutes” Khalifa

Racks on, racks off, see that blonde stripper, my hat’s off
Lookin’ at my Rollie, ’bout thirty grand what that cost
Smoke like I’m in Cali, fuck takin’ flight, I blast off
N—s talkin’ tattoos, we should have a tat-off…
Way back in 2004, I told ‘em it was a wrap
Now my life ain’t my life no more, I told you, n—a, it’s a wrap

Like Drake, this young man’s voice has the appeal of a foghorn and he clearly needs to see an audiologist. When you are pitchy on the microphone and you are not singing, that’s a problem – and not in a good way, like ooooh this Random Axe is gonna be a problem. I mean, an actual problem, like a hearing issue. Rhyming wrap with wrap, saying “racks on/racks off” (makes no sense), that “tat-off” line, and his amateurish cadence throughout which sounds how I would sound if I got on the mic (i.e., bad, just bad); the whole thing is an exercise in delivery-inadequacy and poor storytelling. How bout a cheeseburger-off instead, Wiz? Did you know Dylan wrote a song about you? (Wiz is very thin, that’s all I’m saying)

16. Ace Hood

I’m that n—a in fact (in fact), paper tall as Shaq (oh boy)
Blood, Sweat, and Tears, it’ll be on your local Wal-Mart rack

IF YOU THINK I AM SPENDING MY MONEY TO SUPPORT SAM WALTON’S HIDEOUS CHAIN OF ANTI-UNION DISCRIMINATORY INDENTURED SERVITUDE DUNGEONS YOU MUST BE OUT YOUR DAMN MIND. It’s hard to top Wiz in terms of wackness, but a freaking Wal-Mart mention is going to ensure a spot for you at the top of the list.

15. B.o.B

Call me Bobby Ray, but it’s not two names
Flyin’ through the city, all-black, Bruce Wayne…
As a kid, I was struck by lightning, it’s no wonder I’m electrifying
Fuck a brainstorm, I’ll fuck around and cause a power outage
And it ain’t no rivals, if it was, it’d be no survivors
Just gimme a hour, I’ll light it up like an Eiffel Tower
Sigh. OK. I really did try to approach this activity without prejudice even though I strongly dislike this particular individual. After listening with a clear head and an open heart, though, it turns out this guy is an annoying doofus! What’s all that garbage about lightning? Why is someone other than Eddy Grant trying to talk to me about electricity? Who encouraged him to enter into battles that are completely unwinnable? His delusion is not cute; it’s irritating. And his voice sounds like Tyrone Biggums’ at the start of his verse. And his style of dress makes him look like he works at Barneys*. And sorry, but “Bobby” and “Ray” are 2 names. And he appears to have some sort of weather symbol tattooed onto his wrist area, which I never noticed before. I should’ve been making fun of it, and it’s sad I missed out on doing so all these months.


Wiz and his tat-off are waiting for you, Bobby.

14. Wale

Racks on racks on racks, I’m tryna smash and not call back
My name Wale, you so silly, wet my willie, might call you a cab
Yeah, ridin’ around wit’ that reefer scent, ridin’ around with Ms. Reece and them
When I’m in the groove, I can freak a tune, I’m smoother than alopecia skin
I shows out, like dope when I put that flow down
Like soap when I put my clothes on, I’m jokin’, but I be Foamed out
And all she want is more bags, but all I want is more 1s
I told her “Bring that money back” like all them racks is Nordstrom’s, whooaaa

Let’s say I had a friend named “Blonde Patti Smith” who I kept trying to get you to like. Man I just did this siiiiiick track with Blonde Patti. I really push her in your face. She’s my sidekick at every party and I keep suggesting we have ciphers and then I just toss the mic to her so she can get loose. Me and Blonde Patti are going on tour; have you listened to her new mixtape yet? You would hate that. It’s annoying. Wale doesn’t understand this concept.

Fresh from putting on a suit and standing next to Rawss behind a rented Bentley, Wale lays down yet another verse about wearing Nikes and not calling girls. What a G. Using the word smash is extra hard too, or so says my cousin in 8th grade. I would caution my fellow ladies against accepting a date invitation from Wale – he’s a grown man who uses the word smash – although if you’re a woman who thinks sleeping with Wale is a good idea, you are impaired and you probably say smash for the act of lovemaking too, so maybe you kind of deserve what you get. Another terrible thing I can’t ignore: the way he says “WHOOAAA” at the end of his own verse and everybody hates that as much as I do, right? Oops, pow, surprise! And finally, “alopecia skin” is gross. I understand the analogy and I guess it’s kind of clever-? But it’s still gross and he never brings nothin new to the table and that’s how he solidified the #14 spot. Can’t ride the “No Hands” gravy train forever, lazybones.

13. Trae

I’m the hood if you wondered where I’m at
In the back of a Chevy that’s all black…
Couple of whi-whips that I ride like yachts
A couple of haters lookin’, I’m knowin’ them n—s hot
And tell ‘em that I don’t give a damn
Hard as a motherfucker, tell ‘em I was HAM

I’m pretty confident nobody was wondering where Trae was at. Thanks for the update, though, buddy. He’s on the track by default – I think it’s likely he was offered a chance to hop on and contribute a verse only in an attempt by the label to make the geographic representation less lopsided (MCs from Georgia on the “Racks” remix: 5. MCs from Texas: 3, including Trae). Scarface is currently otherwise engaged, Pimp C is unavailable, and Devin just flat-out said no when they asked him to get on, so Trae, you’re up.


12. Twista

Everybody wanna hate because I’m on, blowin’ head back, bottles by the zone
Twista finna get up on the track and spit it the way I do simp-a-ly because I like this song
When I step up out the Maserati car, gotta pull it, pull it, pull it, pull it from the jar
Then I blow, I’ma close out the par’, with some killers and everybody know who we are

I don’t know, I guess I’m not impressed by machine-gun delivery anymore. It’s cute for a while and then it just gets old and gimmick-y, plus it’s really hard to rap along with in the car and that’s a bummer.

11. Big Sean

I got single bitches tryin’, married bitches lyin’
I take ‘em to the crib and leave our future in a condom
I wake up fresher than these motherfuckers as is
Look inside my closet, that shit look like it’s Raks Fifth…
I’m at the altar sayin’ my vows to this Benjamin Franklin power
You buy her a house, I won’t buy her a vowel, you fell in love, and I fell in her mouth

That condom line. Ugh. I hate myself for saying so, but it really is kind of amusing. (I didn’t say “Verses on the ‘Racks’ remix ranked according to level of female-friendliness and unbridled romance”; I’m ranking them on lyrical strength and overall enjoyment.) When did everyone start saying LEH’GO in their songs and At what point is the jump-on-my-remix madness going to end are the 2 primary questions this song elicits inside of me, but hearing Sean on any song brings up the question Which other MC named Big is going to battle himBoi, K.R.I.T., L (even from the grave, he could take Sean), Smalls (even from the grave), Noyd, Mike, Pooh? In other opposing-forces news, this track’s producer is Sonny Digital, and Kool Keith was an Analog Brother. Feels like there’s a cage match between those two I should be planning.
10. Dose

Got Activist in my Sprite, Benjamins in my Robins
Franck Muller wit’ flooded ice, but I still got my brightness
In the fast lane, gettin’ slow brain in a 2012 Maserati
I’m kickin’, pimpin’, like Liu Kang, my coupe smokin’ like Friday
Puffin’ on that garlic, sick off all the Marley
Inked up on my hands and arms, got Def Jam in my pocket

I’m sorry, but WHO? I’m not familiar. “Dose”? Unless he’s a new golfwanger or the next big thing in YMCMB or endorsed by Doomsy, why am I hearing about him? Is he Dose One’s son? Who the heck is he and did I mention this song’s got SEVENTEEN DUDES on it? Fuckin thing is 12 minutes long as a result and in Ramones terms that’s like 22 or 23 songs. So much filler makes my tummy hurt. This verse should’ve been edited out but it taught me that “garlic” is a term for weed and that there is a brand of jeans called Robin’s; nothing more, nothing less.


We got racks on racks on racks (she got)
Racks on racks on racks (they got)
Racks on racks on racks…
All around the globe, bein’ on TV
Everywhere you look, you see YC
Hatin’-ass n—s just wishin’ they were me
Way too big for my ma’fuckin’ jeans
I’m so fly I don’t even got wings
Ranked right in the middle of the list for a reason, this is an unremarkable verse that, like Dose’s, I neither hate nor love. It’s stupid (“I’m so fly I don’t even got wings”) but I don’t care enough to get mad at it. Yawn. Wake me up when we get to Bun B’s part. YC’s responsible for that monster hook, though, and I do like the inclusiveness of his sentiment. It really is a glorious sing-along Power 106 beast. Racks: he got, she got, they got, we all got. Gimme my cut, please.
8. Cory Gunz

Young Money, Cash Money so strong, keep scorin’, I’ma bring it on home
Those Xans and the lean cause zones, somethin’ tan with a mean jawbone…
Goin’ for the grips every day ’til the grave
I be worried about chips, you be worried about the Lay’s

I don’t care if you follow it up with Gunz; the name Cory will never be intimidating – though if your real name is Peter Pankey jr., I can’t criticize you for adopting a firearm-related alias in an attempt to make yourself seem badder. This one gets a pretty high spot on the list by default (he’s simply not as weak as Wale or Wiz), though that “chips/Lay’s” line is sort of cute and helped get him to #8. Plus I love the blatant truth-telling contained in his verse (Young Money Cash Money really is so strong at the moment) as well as the blatant pandering to Soulja.

7. Yo Gotti

Gotta front me a brick, that ain’t nothin’ to you
Just ran through a ticket, there ain’t nothin’ to do
Yeah, I love these streets like I love the booth
Mr. Cocaine Music, I’m 100 proof
Got white on white on white, ice on ice on ice
And when I’m in the club it look like lights on lights on lights
Um, Jeezy is Mr. Cocaine Music, just for the record. Glad to see Yo Gotti’s still alive, though. For me, it’s all about the voice with him. Honestly I can’t think of one memorable thing he’s said on a track but I can tell you everything is said in a nice gravelly Memphis twang.
6. Cory Mo

Catch me in the city with the trunk on crack
Top dropped down, black on black
Fistful of wood, twisted for the good
Check my bank account, got racks on racks
Look around, fool, got a wall full of plaques
Platinum and gold, you gots to love that
Posted up just like a thumbtack
Better hide ya ho, ’cause she bound to get snatched
H-Town, Texas to ATL
She got a fat ass, she prolly know me well
Keep it on the low, never kiss and tell
True player, Cory Mo cold as hell

Two Corys on one song! Name the last time that happened! CM’s got a deep, fatherly voice and uses the world “cold” as an adjective like an old man who’s seen some stuff, or like Drexl Spivey; I appreciate both of these things about him. Last time I remember hearing cold, Jay-Z said it right before he asked me to 2-way him. Bring it back in songs, please! Also Cory’s name is fun and bouncy, making it appropriate for a cool (cold!) intro. If I were a boxing announcer or the host of a mixtape I’d introduce Cory with a cute rhyme, like Cory Mo with the classic flow. I lack the grasp of technical language to describe the rhythmic rapid beauty of his style, but it’s textbook Texan. Cold Cory Mo with the Texan flow.
5. Waka Flocka Flame

I got racks on top of racks, stacks on top of stacks
Bands on top of bands, got me fuckin her and her friends
Bad boys don’t do papers, that was just for my haters…
Got a bad bitch from the U.K.
She do everything I say
Go crazy when she hear my music
She got “Grove St.” on replay

This is just pure magic (FLOCKA!) despite the presence of Auto-Tune. All of apt. 680 was stunned by yet another nuanced, sophisticated performance by Flocka (Flocka!) on the remix. Listening to him is a proven heartrate-increasor. Nobody can outdo him, spirit-wise. Flocka is Flocka’s biggest fan and that kind of self-confidence is contagious. I get dressed and do my hair to the sweet sounds of Benjamin Flocka, then I walk down the street like I’m a bad bitch from the UK and can’t nobody tell me nothin.
4. CyHi Da Prynce

Got racks on racks on racks, y’all rap so wack on wax
Purple by the pound, that’s that Flacco, haaaa
I make big plays, I got big chips
Blue money like six Crips
Switch gears like stick shifts…
Pull triggers like hamstrings
Boy, I’m doin’ my damn thing
Big blood with them bricks, pimp
Get off a key like I can’t sing
Got the seven on me like big jersey
Ridin’ round, and this bitch dirty
I’m the best, hands down, they nicknamed me 6:30

In a stunning moment of self-alienation, I found that I actually enjoyed this. Joe Flacco is someone I can never get in my Fantasy draft, but he wears purple for the Ravens and I like when there are cute NFL references in rap music (usually only people like GZA and Monch attempt this). Cy’s verse ranked so highly because he mixes up his cadence style and his fast delivery resembles that of every Texas rapper since ’98*. Why does he have to spell his name like that, though. Why.

3. Young Jeezy

Young, if it’s convertible, then how is it a hardtop?
(then Jeezy makes a car-screech sound, love it)
Bitch, I hit one button, my roof open like a hard spot
Make me throw my diamonds up, bitch, my life was hard knock
Had so much kush and Ciroc, bitch, I think my heart stop
Every night’s a weekend, every day’s a Friday night
You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, bitch, this just my Friday ice
’87, brick fare, yeah, I’m talkin’ thirty racks
All I sold is hundos, where the fuck my twenties at?
First of all: YEEEEEAAAAAUUUUUGGGGHHHHH. I’d also like to add CTE, baby; we all we got. Additionally: Jeezy took a break from mentoring youngsters in the business of cocaine to write a confusing verse about days of the week. If every day is a Friday night, that means you are up and about like you would be during 12 – 4 AM on Friday, going places and doing things, hugging girls, shaking hands. You therefore sleep/recover during the other hours, which, if my overthinking is correct, would be actual PM hours. This is the schedule that Ben Franklin would’ve recommended; the Snowman keeps it healthy, wealthy, and wise. Jeezy’s continued presence in rap is also helping to offset all the damage B.o.B. is doing to the reputation of the state of Georgia.

2. Nelly

Yeah, they call me Country Grammar, my brother out the slammer
I’m crimson color painted, you can call that Alabama
I’m not from Alabama, but check out how I roll tide
He might have the same whip, but check out how I roll mine
Y’all n—s ain’t no stars, y’all only in it for the cars
The sky is your limit, mayne, and mine somewhere ’bout Mars…
I ride wit’ them boys in the middle of the map
St. Louis, Detroit, Chi-town, Nap
Down to the Dirty, back up through the trap
But the money don’t stack, man, money overlap
Yeah, y’all better watch it, mayne, right here we lock and load
Two things is for certain, mayne, and one thing is fa sho’
Got a house on hundred acres, I’ve never seen my neighbors
A chick in ATL, and from Buckhead to Decatur
A younger me had a meannnn crush on Nells but this verse was ranked based completely on ear-canal enjoyment rather than any romantic feelings. I can be objective sometimes! First of all, how can you not LOVE a dude who starts his verse talking about how happy he is to have his little brother back? Right?? It makes you forget that he just said “They call me Country Grammar” (which they do not actually do). His brother got out a year ago, too, which makes it that much more touching – Nelly is still on that high of being reunited with him. The joy hasn’t faded and he’s gonna let the world know through the majesty of song. Whatta guy.

Nelly has suffered the unfortunate curse of pop radio stardom wherein his talent is wasted on songs they play at H&M. I pray he either starts hanging out on Fairfax to get people interested in him again, or gets really filthy on a mixtape so H&M loses interest completely. Or, you know, he could pull a Luda move and simultaneously be popular and non-wack. This verse is a good start. “Check out how I roll tide” is clever, even though Nelly should be a Mizzou fan, obviously. I hate it when people abandon sports allegiances for the sake of being cool, or because another team’s got a fresher colorway for their fitted. “I ride with them boys in the middle of the map”: also clever. Geography raps are too rare. Blatantly calling out his colleagues on this same track – “y’all only in it for the cars (WIZ stop acting like you don’t see me looking at you)” – is a move of bravery and integrity. And “Two things is for certain mayne and one thing is fa sho” is just pure language-rhythm heaven; I will be reciting this verse in the Civic all over LA this summer.

1. Bun B

*Bun B, I’m a underground king (kang)
In the candy-painted car on swing (swang)
With the top on drop and the trunk on pop
Boy, you can’t tell me a damn thang…
Yeah, I rep that P-A-T
One hundred, yeah, that’s me
If you don’t recognize, you gon’ see
I’m a straight-up trill OG
In a black-on-black-on-black
Cadillac, like a Mack on clacks
Try to jack and I will attack
It’s a fact that I ain’t givin’ up my stacks like that

LOVE. LOVELOVE. Bout time a grown man showed up. Chunk the deuce, get throwed, somthingsomething candypaintwoodgrainVogues, breakin sketti, go hard annnnd don’t forget to ride foreign all the livelong day.


Fellow Caucasian lady, I do not believe there is sufficient room in this city for both myself and you.

British babyvoiced Duffy (the one on the left), biting the other girl’s whole routine.
The Fake Makeout with Dreamy Motown Legend photo has been done before, and with superior style and sincerity. Beat it, limey.

J.M. Hendrix (Stevie on drums!), “I Was Made to Love Her.”



Treat Her Like a Prostitute, or Treat Her Like a Lady?

Song lyrics will teach you about life, if you pay attention. I pay attention. So, you know, I don’t fear the reaper. I know that after laughter comes tears. You lack the minerals and vitamins, things fall apart, everything is everything. A lot of people won’t get no supper tonight. Premier’s got more beats than barns got hay, and that you do it to yourself, you do (and that’s what really hurts). Plus we all know what size rims David Banner has.

I feel confused, however, and I wonder how do you know how to act when you get conflicting instructions? Like when MC Ricky D and the Cornelius Brothers are battling it out in the field known as my record collection?

relationship tips pulled from 2 records in my collection, and the best MC Ricky D vs. Cornelius Brothers battle post you’ll see ALL DAY, promise.

Treat her like a prostitute, or treat her like a lady? OH DEAR, I feel confused, so very confused. Luckily I’m not a dude, so it’s not something I need to worry about. Good luck with this one, tough guy. Sorry for fucking with your whole program.

I know you’re shocked, but it turns out I side with the lanky British MC from the House of Def Jam.

Rappers have lady issues 90% of the time, and when you couple that with blindness in an eye and all kinds of immigration red tape, you’re bound to be a little cranky. But Ricky Walters has feelings, y’all.

There’s girlies out here that seem appealing
But they all come in your life and cold hurt your feelings
I’m telling you
As Rick is my name
I wouldn’t trust no girl unless she feels the same
Treat ’em like a prostitute
Don’t treat no girlie well until you’re sure of the scoop
‘Cause all they do is they hurt and trample

It’s your wife
You buy the tramp jewels and clothes
You get sentimental and bring home a rose
Give her everything ’cause you swear she’s worth it
All your friends tell you, “The bitch don’t deserve it”

I am almost legally obligated to take the “lady stance” here. I’m pretty sure I’ve never been called a bitch because a) I’m a big ol’ nerd and it’s hard to be a bitch and a nerd simultaneously, and b) I’m nice.

Love is blind, so there goes your wealth
Until one day, you see things for yourself
Came home from work early, Mr. Loverman
You had a card and some candy in your right hand
There’s the mailman, he was short yet stout
He went inside your house and didn’t come back out
Bust it
Just a friendly stop, come on, is it?
The mailman comes and he pays your wife a visit?
The thought alone makes your temperature boil
You say to yourself, she might still be loyal
You open up your door and stand in a trance
You see the mailman’s bag and the mailman’s pants
Came home to party
At work had a hard day
Look around your house and you say, “Where the hell are they?”
Run upstairs up to your bedroom
You look inside your room, you see something brewin’
Cover your mouth because you almost choke
You see the mailman’s dick way up your wife’s throat

Girls like pet names. Twinkles & Rover.

Now your girl, she don’t like to have sex a lot
And today she’s ready and she’s hot, hot, hot
As you open up the door she says, “Get on the floor”
She wants to try things she’s never tried before
She takes off your drawers and works you over
She calls you Twinkles
And you call her Rover
Next thing you know, the ho starts to ill
She says, “I love you, Harold” and your name is Will
That’s not the half ’til you start to ride her
Take off your rubber and there’s one more inside her
It’s not yours-who can it be?
I think it was a slick rapper, his name is M.C. Ricky

All my friends have to ask me
Something they didn’t understand
How I get all the women
In the palm of my hand
I told them

Treat her like a lady
Do the best you can do
You gotta treat her like a lady
And she’ll give in to you
Lord, you can see you know what I mean

This dude is a game player and only wants me to be treated like a lady so that I’ll, ahem, give in to him. Keep it movin, buddy.

Oh, you got to love her
And tease her
But most of all you got to please her
You got to hold her
And want her
And make her feel you’ll always need her
You know a woman
Is sentimental
And so easy to upset
So make her feel
That she’s for real, yeah
And she’ll give you happiness
Whoa-oh strange as it seems
You know you can’t treat a woman mean

(this seems strange?)

So my friend, there you have it I said it’s the easy, simple way If you fail to do this Don’t blame her if she looks my way ‘Cause I’m gonna Treat her like a lady So affectionately I’m gonna treat her like a lady And she’ll give in to me Lord, you can see…you know what I mean

And then there was that time Casey Wescott thought about how he was going to ask me out on a date

while ‘Pac looked on.

And I was in hiphop dork, harmonic-bearded-Caucasoid-enamored
music-world-collision bliss.

Fleet Foxes – “He Doesn’t Know Why”


And then I posted some Bar-Kays, used by the celestial musical production being known as Ramone Gooden (Pee Wee from Digital Underground) in the song above.
Thank you, sir. Marry me. In 1991.

“Holy Ghost”



Things that are true and obvious and that should not be questioned, 07/31/09:

A) Just ’cause Biggie jokes and smokes a lot
don’t mean he don’t tote the glock,

B) E-40 is pushin more weight than Atlas
and got a partner by the name of 2Pacalypse

C) One million dollars in one-hundred dollar bills weighs twenty-two pounds (thanks, Frank Lucas!),

D) Goonies never say die,

E) Nobody cares about steroids except Congress, Dan Patrick, Stuart Scott, Jim Lampley, Bob Costas, and Jim Rome, and I wish with all my heart that this topic were not on every time I get in my car and turn the radio to sports talk,

F) I shoulda been here–AYO for fucking YAYO! ladies and gentlemen, it’s the Roots & Nickatina!



G) I need to be here.



We used to kick routines and the presence was fittin*

There’s a Rae “Ice Cream” one on Up North Trips, too!

Because, yes, it’s been done, but no, it hasn’t been done in which the contenders are a nerdy bikini-clad lady blogger and an artsy fedora-wearing male blogger:

The “Brooklyn vs. Queens Hiphop Superiority Challenge.”
(No Biggie or Nas or Jay allowed.)

Daym, who took Brooklyn:

“blah blah blah Boot Camp Clik something something M.O.P. blah blah etc.

And in this corner,
, who took Queens because nobody would pick it given a choice between the 2 boroughs and because picking the underdog has yet to fail me:

“Mobb Deep, Run-DMC, LL, Monch, Akinyele, Capone & Nore, Beatnuts, Onyx & Serch (partial credit? combined they form 1 good MC), Marley Marl, Q-Tip, Large Pro, KOOL G RAP. Oh and The Ramones and Christopher Walken. BYE.

I won’t let the victory go to my head, promise.

*Also acceptable for the post title:
“Linden Boulevard, represent, repre-zent-zent”

“Friday night and Jamaica Queens funkin”
“If I die I couldn’t choose a better location.”

Jesus thinks waterboarding is fine

Jesus monsters are more likely to support torture than heathens such as myself.

No. fucking. way.

I’ve always found evangelicals to be a compassionate and intelligent lot who would not endorse such tactics! Somebody hold me, cuz I’m about to fall over from surprise.

The more often Americans go to church, the more likely they are to support the torture of suspected terrorists, according to a new survey.

More than half of people who attend services at least once a week — 54 percent — said the use of torture against suspected terrorists is “often” or “sometimes” justified. Only 42 percent of people who “seldom or never” go to services agreed, according to the analysis released Wednesday by the Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life.

White evangelical Protestants were the religious group most likely to say torture is often or sometimes justified — more than six in 10 supported it. People unaffiliated with any religious organization were least likely to back it. Only four in 10 of them did.

The survey asked: “Do you think the use of torture against suspected terrorists in order to gain important information can often be justified, sometimes be justified, rarely be justified, or never be justified?”

Breasts = Paradise

Everyone loves ’em. Mine, of course, are stunning.

Another one going into the “No Fucking Way” file.

NBC has bought the rights to the muy successful Colombian telenovela “Sin tetas no hay paraiso” (“Without Breasts There is No Paradise”) and is developing it as a likely primetime project. Simulatenously, NBC sister net Telemundo will produce a Spanish-language version of the format with a different cast and script.

“Sin tetas,” from Colombia’s Canal Caracol, focused on a young woman determined to get bigger breasts in order to escape poverty. She ends up working as a prostitute, getting involved with drug dealer in the process. Sudser is based on the novel of the same name by Gustavo Bolivar.

“These synergistic productions represent a giant leap forward for the networks of NBC Universal,” producer Ben Silverman said. “I scour the world for the best ideas and for the game-changing hit shows and ‘Sin Tetas’ is one of those shows. We have a tremendous opportunity to achieve cross-promotional efforts on behalf of both of these telenovelas as we reach out to diversify our audiences.”

– Link

“Excuse me, miss–are you an actress?”

I am shocked,
shocked I tell you, that this dude Ben wanted to produce a show about a nubile Latina in search of larger breasts! I’m sorry, but this picture tells me a story:

Ben = every creepy “producer” dude I encounter whenever I cross over onto the hideous Westside (sorry, he just gives off a Santa Monica vibe…never goes to the beach, just lives by the beach cuz the ladies like it, drivin around in his 7-series, bumpin Jay-Z like he’s down). If you are a reasonably attractive young lady in the greater metro LA area, you have encountered at least 12 Bens thus far. Sorry if you’re a nice dude in real life, Ben; I calls ’em like I sees ’em.