411 Music's Friday News Bootleg 11.07.03

Welcome back to The Bootleg. I’m the only writer on 411 who can name all the Black guys from G.I. Joe. Let’s see, there was Roadblock…Alpine…Stalker, Iceberg and Doc. There’s a big weekend on deck for the first family of bootleggery. Me and the wife are celebrating our first 365 days of wedded bliss on Sunday. The dreaded one-year anniversary is upon us and what better time to reflect on what a wild ride it’s been.

The first storm of the season hit San Diego on our wedding day, which should have been a sign for me to just make the 20 minute drive down to the border, change my name to La Parka II and live happily ever after as the “bachelor rudo”. Instead, I stuck around for the ceremony (where about 40 people showed up) and the reception (where nearly all 120 invited guests seemed to magically appear). Freeloading bastards.

We survived the Christmas honeymoon in Cabo San Lucas, while enjoying Cuban cigars, bottles of Corona and a last-night meal of ribs and chicken served in a posh alley between two legitimate restaurants. During the year, the wife forgave me for the liquored-up indiscretions involving Wookies and Salemis…and she didn’t ask any questions about the debauchery she knows nothing about, like that April trip to The Bay Area that would likely lead to our divorce if she ever read the fourth paragraph (yep, each of those sentences directly involved me).

I should be clinging to those memories like Triple H to his vials. With the wife 4 months pregnant, I won’t be crashin’ any more bachelorette parties. Nope, my life has turned into umbilical servitude and weekend trips to Bed, Bath & Beyond (if we have time).

Before I forget…I just got an email from Widro and Ashish. Y’all have only three more episodes of Goodness until 411Mania.com’s Darkest Hour…and I don’t mean 60 minutes Bernie Mac stand-up. (Can I get away with that…?)

The Nut Job of the Millennium

Michael Jackson will be returning to TV later this month in a 2-hour special slated to air on CBS. All that’s known at this time is that the show will run the day before Thanksgiving, right about the time that my wife can be heard screaming, “Why isn’t this f*ckin’ bird thawed out yet?” Most fans think this will be nothing more than a cheap means of hyping his sure-to-flop Number Ones album due out on November 18. If you ask me, we need to revive the original Thanksgiving Eve tradition of The Survivor Series. I believe the show ran on the Wednesday before Turkey Day from ’91 to ’94 and if this idea means less Michael and more Mabel, I’m all for it.

This Bedtime Story Has A Happy Ending

Venerable (read: old) rapper Slick Rick was scheduled to be released from a Florida prison as soon as this week. Rick’s lawyers have found a loophole with the way his case was handled, which could be the key to his freedom. His legal team is fighting a law on the books that says all violent one-eyed has-beens can be arrested and deported. In fact, it was this very same law that led to Sammy Davis, Jr. faking his own death back in 1990 and the sudden and unexplained disappearance of Popeye and Speedee from our pop culture landscape. Think about it. Dammit, I said think!

The Really Dirty Bird

The Atlanta Falcons lost their franchise player, Mike Vick, to a season-ending injury in the preseason. So, where do you turn to in order to keep the fans interested this season? The Falcons opted for a halftime concert featuring rappers Bonecrusher, Youngbloodz and Jermaine Dupri. Apparently, no one told these morons to use their “Wal-Mart” language, as everyone involved came with their “parental advisory” lyrics. Despite a handful of complaints from some angry fans, most expect the whole controversy to disappear by next weekend. Won’t you join me in prayer, so that the same thing happens to the careers of Mr. Dupri and company? Testify.

It’s Not A Riot, It’s An Uprising

Kansas City is famous for two things: some of the nation’s best barbecue and scary 102 pound ghouls who are not Paul from The Wonder Years or the nameless oldest son from Mr. Belvedere. Marilyn Manson was forced to cut a KC concert short last week, which didn’t go over too well with his legions of unemployable fans. Nearly 3,000 of them preferred to stay and riot, instead of taking the bus back to their dark little rooms in their parent’s homes. Cops dispersed the crowd with a few drums of delicious pepper spray. I’m told it has the same effect as The Great Muta’s rarely used yellow mist. For you fans born after 1980, substitute “Tajiri” for “Muta”. You kids don’t know what you were missin’.

Piston Honda vs. Pizza Pasta

A t-shirt vendor in Istanbul, Turkey was killed while he tried to hawk merchandise featuring the likeness of Eminem. As he repeated the rapper’s name to induce customer interest, a second vendor took offense as “Eminem” apparently means “My Emine” in their native tongue. Oh, did I mention that “Emine” was the name of the second guy’s mother? I am not making this up.

Anyways, a knife fight broke out (what is this, West Side Story?) and T-Shirt guy met his untimely and nearly unbelievable death. Hey, isn’t Istanbul where former heavyweight contender Bald Bull was from? I can’t remember: was he in the Mike Tyson version of Punch-Out or just the arcade version? And do any of y’all remember the code to get to Tyson? It’s time for a Little Mac comeback, baby.

Make Mine Air Shady

Does anyone remember when the NBA wasn’t filled with tatted-up 19-year-old street ballers who get paid millions to miss 8 out of every 10 shots they take? Does anyone remember when you needed more than a few nice beats to sell albums in the rap game? If you answered “no” to both, then you’ve probably already pre-ordered your new pairs of Reeboks from the Allen Iverson and 50 Cent line. I hear neither shoe is as good as the hype and both start to wear thin after about 15 minutes in the spotlight. The Iverson brand does come with a blonde wig and gold tooth for your momma, while the 50 design is made entirely of Kevlar, so it all balances out.

Maybe Next Time He’ll Try’n Run The Hudson

We all mocked him, but damn it, Diddy done ran the city. In an official time of 4:14:54, “The Negro Flash” finished the NYC Marathon and helped raise $2 million for the little brats and ankle biters who look up to him and his inspirational music. C’mon, people…Oprah once ran a marathon. It can’t be that damn hard.

You wanna talk about hard…how about Track & Field? No, not the steroid-laden Olympic sport…I’m talkin’ the old arcade game. There were two versions: The first required you to heavily pound a pair of buttons to get your guy to run. After five minutes you’d be sweatin’ like Patrick Ewing. The second had one of those track balls that would pinch your fingers if you weren’t careful. Of course, it was just a video game and far from reality…as if the white sprinters weren’t enough of a clue.

Sometimes The News Just Writes Itself

The year was 1992 and when Arrested Development released their debut album, it was akin to the cool touch of bathroom porcelain to the side of one’s head after a long night with 40 ounces of malty brew. These days, all ain’t well. The originators of “hick hop” have sued the Fox network for using the ‘Arrested Development’ name for their hottest new sitcom. The group’s last surviving member, Todd “Speech” Thomas says:

“The use of our name by FOX is not only confusing to the public, but also has the potential to significantly dilute what the ‘Arrested Development’ name means to our fans.”

Pretty strong claims from the lounge act at The Waffle House in Macon. Sorry “Speech”, but it’s been 11 years since you were relevant. Why don’cha find the cave that the other ’92 outcasts like Ross Perot, Nailz and Damon Wayans’ movie career are currently residing? Hey, maybe Wreckx-N-Effect could use a third member?

Nick’a Please…!

This week, Bootleg contributor Nick Salemi speaks on the phenomenon that is Lord of the Rings. Personally, I liked it twenty years ago, when it was called “Dungeons & Dragons”.

“I know everyone is on the edge of their seat waiting for the third installment of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. OK, almost everyone. I’m not much of a fan of these epics, as I learned everything I needed to know about this subject matter from the Legend of Zelda
video game series. And might I add, “Frodo, you’re no Link.”

However, for all you huge fans out there I’m sure you’ve heard by now that select theaters across the country will be having special screenings of all THREE of the films in the trilogy in all their extended director’s cut glory. Before I could get out the words “Who’s gonna sit through that?” A quick search on eBay has answered my question…LOTS of people who apparently are willing to pay handsomely for it.

I found one listing to a screening in Los Angeles particularly humorous. Two tickets on sale with the “Buy it Now” option price for…get this…$900!!! For $900, I better get a supporting role in the movie, an all you can eat buffet and an open bar at the theater to go along with it. (and if possible a no-holds barred street fight with Sean Astin)

Beware eBayers, as it was not stated if the mustard gas that SHOULD pumped into the theater was included in the price.”

General Haberdashery

Last week’s rumored dissension amongst the members of 3 Tha Hard Way has been replaced by unison against a common foe: Widro. He knows why.

Fernandez gives me 20 words and an ampersand to speak my mind in his column. He also prepares you for the release of the album of the year.

Smilo doesn’t know what an ampersand is, but he channels the ghost of Larry King and gives it up for Boyz II Men.

Mathan uses the biggest week in the history of 411 Music to outshine everyone, all by himself. I can’t say it’s his best work ever, but only because I’ve already said that about one or two other pieces he’s done…even though it is.

E.vocator’s V.iew I.s L.aw. EM vs. The Oakland Raiders, heavily-salted pork products, Subway, Sparkle Pants, The N-word and things that don’t piss him off (space permitting). You read now.

Junk Mail

Last week, I shared one of the flamiest emails to ever grace my in-box. In response, some of you sent quick lil’ notes of support. Believe me, when it’s 3:45 PM on Thursday afternoon, while I’m hard at work on Friday’s column and my boss is wondering why that proposal for the Japanese Government still hasn’t gone out yet…your letters are what keeps me from being a responsible employee. Thank you. Take it, Ethan…

I’ve never written to you 411 guys before. To be honest, I only come for Keith’s rants, but since he stopped posting new stuff, I decided to lurk around the other areas and found The Bootleg. I haven’t laughed so hard since The Sports Guy’s “Why Grady Why?” column. I’ve got a quick question for you, though. You’re obviously married and obviously a wrestling fan. So, how did you introduce the (future) wife to sports-entertainment, without having her run off in shame?

It took a few years. Even during the late ’90s boom period, rasslin’ never shook its “how can you watch that crap” stigma here in California. I started her out slowly, with the Wrestling With Shadows documentary. It takes the “sport” seriously, while making no effort to hide the scripted nature. I eased her into The Rock’s promos and associated skits, in an effort to appeal to her overt love of men with peanut butter complexions.

I then did some creative editing. If Rocky or Austin were on Raw or Booker and the cruiserweights on Nitro, I left the remote alone. Mrs. Bootleg was never enthralled, but if she looked up from balancing her checkbook, she wouldn’t have been repulsed. However, if Dude Love or The Oddities or Judy Bagwell were in the ring or on the mic, I would turn the channel in mock disgust.

By the spring of 1999, she was completely tolerant of my hidden shame and I no longer was forced to quickly change the channel to something more socially acceptable (like Moesha or Ally McBeal) whenever she entered the room. Of course, two years later, I had all but sworn off the fake sport I once loved, but that’s another column.

Pretend Football

After a five game winning streak, America’s Team has lost two in a row. Last week, we were bounced by “Cavalier Power”. The sad thing is that the team’s fantasy owner was serving a seven-day jail term, for what his answering machine describes as “a stupid lack of public urinals”.

By the way…Keyshawn Johnson is the most overrated player in all of team sports. I have to start him every week, cuz he’s certainly capable of a 10 catch, 150 yard game…but his game stats never come close. I’m not suggesting someone reenacts the opening scene from The Last Boy Scout, but at least then I wouldn’t feel guilty about cutting him.

Coming Soon

I’m taking a brief sabbatical from reviewing new garbage like Murphy Lee and Loon, so I can devote my time to our Countdown to Resurrection series. The feedback has been tremendous, so if you missed Part I, give it a look and I’m sure you’ll dig it. This weekend, Part II will be up and addresses the infamous feud between Tupac and the second most powerful man in the world. And I don’t mean Captain Marvel.

I’ve also enlisted the efforts of two of our site’s most popular n’ talented writers, the esteemed Mr. Mathan Erhardt, who has promised to pull no punches and the eminently evil Evocator who has an opinion on everything. And if that’s not enough, I’ve got one word for you: Ashish. They’ll be part of the 411 Round Table feature on Tupac and if any of y’all want in, drop me a line. You’ll get your name attached to one of the most exciting & comprehensive thangs our site has put out.

Much more exciting than anything you’ll read in Movies, Wrestling, Games, Figures, Comics, Forum and Home.

Life With Mrs. Bootleg

On July 27, 2003, I was sittin’ on the throne readin’ the Sunday funnies, when the wife knocked on the door and said those four words that changed my life, “We’re outta Cap’n Crunch.” Then, she said, “I think I’m pregnant.” Ever since then, I’ve been wondering what’s in this for me (and who ate all my damn cereal).

Finally, a ray of hope as The Bootlegs find out today whether the demon seed in wifey’s womb is a boy or a girl. If it’s a girl, she could inherit Mrs. Bootleg’s athletic background and score a track scholarship to a collegiate empire like Weber State or that college that the Saved By The Bell kids went to.

If it’s a boy, he’ll grow to be all of 5’5″ (thanks to my 4’8″ wife) with a head shaped like E.T.’s (thanks to me). He’ll go dateless until I buy him his first hooker at 21 and live at home until his eventual arrest for voyeurism…a victimless crime.

It’s Lights Out for 411. I’ve got the news that Widro n’ Ashish don’t want me to share. Get at me on AOL or Yahoo IM: ajcameron13