411 Music's Friday News Bootleg 02.20.04

Welcome back to The Bootleg. We have something of a tradition in the Cameron Household. Every Friday morning, the wife asks me how long I was up working on this column, the night before…and then she asks me what I wrote about her.

The answer to the first question usually falls between 9:00 and 11:00 PM, although I managed to set a personal record when I was still typing at 1:40 AM last Friday morning. If only I was this dedicated to my paying job. Anyways, the wife usually finds out the answer to the second question on her own, as she’ll scan my work for any embarrassing mention of her name.

She’s been such a good sport throughout the last year, that I thought I’d repay her loyalty as my punching bag with a shameful tale of my own.

Last Saturday, Mrs. Bootleg was discharged from the hospital. It was her first day outdoors in two weeks so, of course, she spent most of it inside Stately Cameron Manor. In the evening, we drove down to the hospital to visit Baby Cameron in the ICU, grabbed dinner and came back home.

I ended up crashing in bed, while the wife jumped on the computer and began to upload dozens of baby pictures from the kid’s first week on earth. Around 2:00 AM, she comes running into the bedroom to inform me that our cat had brought yet another mouse into the house.

This wasn’t the first rodent he had invited home, so I fetched my mouse-hunting gloves and went downstairs. After 15 minutes of back-and-forth, triple threat action between mouse vs. cat vs. Aaron, I snagged the mouse by his tail. On my way to the front door, the lil’ bastard shanked me with his razor-sharp teeth. That’s right…he bit me.

Mrs. Bootleg, who is swimming in postpartum hormones, demanded that I go to Urgent Care and get a tetanus shot, immediately. I held off until the sun came up, but at 8:00 AM, there I was, amongst a phalanx of phlegm-filled kids and their unshaven mothers in the waiting room.

I filled out the necessary forms and squeezed out my last remaining drops of manhood when I filled in “bit by a mouse” in the space marked “What’s your emergency?” Then, as if to punish me for wasting Doctor’s valuable time, I was led back to a small little patient room and made to wait nearly two hours before I received my shot.

Oh, and I discovered a new regulation on California’s books. It seems that whenever you receive medical care for an animal bite, you have to fill out and submit an Animal Attack Report. Imagine my pride, as I answered questions like:

Animal: mouse
Animal’s Weight (approx): less than 1 pound
Location Where Attack Took Place: My Living Room

That form is now on file with the state of California’s Department of Animal Control, while I wonder if a neutered bitch such as myself can still be a positive male role model for my son.

Now, more than ever…I need my fix of Goodness.

Ugly Man Meets Hot Chick III

Last week, I engaged in some idle gossip regarding the imminent wedding bells that are tolling for Beyoncé and her man Thunderlips. Well, we’re keeping the water cooler convo flowing with the latest unsubstantiated rumor that’s making the rounds. This time, it appears that America will find out what happens when “annoying” meets “untalented”. That’s right, kids…St. Louis “rapper” Nelly and the voice n’ boob sweetened Ashanti have been dating on the low for a minute, but are now prepared to take their relationship public.

See what makes The Bootleg during a slow news week? And I don’t mean to beat a dead horse, but let’s recap, shall we? Jigga n’ Beyoncé…Jermaine Dupri n’ Janet…Nelly n’ Ashanti. I guess Druish Princesses really are attracted to money and power…and I have neither…and they know it.

It Tastes Like…Burning

Johnny Cash hasn’t even been dead for a year and the exploitative vultures have begun their descent on his carcass. It seems that the people behind (heh) a well-known hemorrhoid-relief cream have hired an ad agency to broker a deal with the Cash Estate for use of the song Ring of Fire in a new TV and radio campaign. The agency even went as far as to contact one of the track’s songwriters, Merle Kilgore. As you might expect, the Cash Estate was none too pleased with this development and brought an immediate halt to any negotiations.

Why can’t both sides get back to the bargaining table and work something out? Here’s my proposal…let’s dig up the corpse of Claude Akins and have him and a digitally restored Johnny Cash star in a hemorrhoid infomercial. Cash could play “Sufferer #1” (“Ooh! Oh, that hurts! Ow! Oh, is there no relief?”) Or, maybe one of the “after” guys (“Ooh, that’s better! I can ride a bike again!”) Is there such a thing as an inappropriate Simpsons reference? No, there’s not.

You Can’t Spell ‘Hypocrite’ Without ‘Ho’

When I was still in school, Erykah Badu performed at the Open Air Theater on the campus of San Diego State University. Her act brought all the student intellectuals to the front row (which, for a State school, means you’re on the six-year plan, as opposed to the eight or ten-year one) and the local press hailed her show as a step in the right direction for the morally adrift ship of hip hop. A year later, she had squirted out a bastard child fathered by Andre 3000 of Outkast and today she’s pregnant again. Many assumed that her longtime beau, Common was the baby daddy, but he’s not.

Instead, Erykah found another washed-up rapper/donor this time around. And those of you who had The D.O.C. in your pools, please step forward to claim your prize. For the 98% of you who don’t know, D.O.C. was one of the first real lyricists to come out of the West Coast. He dropped a platinum album in 1989 (yes, with an ‘8’), before a car accident destroyed his voice box and killed his career. Wow. This is like one of those “surprises” that’s so far out of left field, it actually ceases to be surprising, like Vince McMahon as “the higher power” or something. Still, it’s good to know that a brutha with a bus pass can get some love.

With Sound-Proof Walls…To Muffle Even The Loudest Boy’s Cries

US Weekly, the magazine for those dumbfounded by the fourth-grade level writing found in People, has reported that embattled rapper Eminem is in talks to purchase Michael Jackson’s infamous “Neverland” ranch in California. The mag cites the following reasons that Slim Shady may be looking to relocate: disdain for his current home’s (Michigan) frigid winters, a desire to be closer to the Aftermath studios in Los Angeles and, my personal favorite…his belief that California is a better place to raise his daughter.

Based on my past dating history, here’s all you need to know about how to raise a girl in Cali. Spoil her rotten, so she comes to expect that type of treatment from every guy she dates. Pay her way through college, so she can coast through a meaningless major like Biology, Music or Dance. Fill her head with that “follow your dreams” nonsense and watch as she shits it all away for a pipe dream of becoming an actress. When she’s 30 and working at Starbucks, make sure the bitch brings me the maple scone closest to the display glass…those are always fresher.

Anyone Seen Seth Monroe Lately?

OK, I’ll admit it…I’m torn on this one. In Casper, Wyoming, a white supremacist group called The National Alliance is protesting an upcoming concert featuring Ludacris, Chingy and David Banner. The group is distributing flyers with the mug shot of rapper and convicted rapist Mystikal, while attempting to link the actions of one to those of many. On the one hand, this type of ignorance and unmitigated garbage needs to be silenced once and for all…but enough about Ludacris, Chingy and David Banner. I actually didn’t even know Wyoming was still in the Union until this news story broke.

Why not just let these pure white kooks have Wyoming? It’s not like that state has ever given us anything on its own. Well, except for that missing link that won a wrestling Gold Medal in the Olympics a few years back. Then, he lost part of his foot to frostbite a short while later. These days, he spends his free time womanizing, drinking and making outrageous claims, like how he invented the question mark.

And That Includes Wildcats

A few months back, we reported on the possibility of a remake of The Longest Yard and Snoop Dogg’s potential involvement in the movie. It appears that it’s coming closer to reality, as the 98 pound pimp is this close to signing on for a featured role. For those born after the Muppets successfully Took Manhattan, the flick revolves around a ragtag bunch of prisoners who take on the prison guards in a football game. For those of us who grew up on HBO’s Oz, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of shanks and sodomy to go around, too. Adam Sandler (who really deserves one or the other) is already attached to star as the retired quarterback who captains the convicts. Paramount Pictures also promises that the full cast will include “other rap stars, along with current and former NFL players”.

Can someone please ask the 411 Movie Answering Guy why Hollywood can’t seem to make a decent football movie? Seriously, there hasn’t been a good one in my lifetime. Unnecessary Roughness had Sinbad and Rob Schneider. The Program did have Halle Berry in hair extensions (as my wife jealously points out), but I couldn’t buy 5 foot 2 inch Omar Epps as a running back. The Replacements, Any Given Sunday…hell, I had to go back to 1976’s Gus to find a football movie formula that worked. A field goal kicking mule…hilarity.

Sometimes The News Just Writes Itself

In a recent interview with MTV, Christian singer Stacie Orrico slammed Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera for their “degrading” attire and the poor example they set as role models to young girls.

“The reason that I don’t dress trashy is that I’m trying to set an example for little girls. From the time they’re seven or eight years old, (girls) are being taught that the only thing that makes them special and beautiful is their sexuality, and I think that’s wrong.”

Nothing quite like one of those holier-than-thou sermons out of a 17-year-old’s pie hole from that bastion of tolerance and morality, Tennessee. By the way, say ‘hi’ to James Earl Ray for me. But, wait…Stacie ain’t off the soapbox just yet:

“I think that a truly sexy woman comes from being confident and being classy, respectable and mature.”

In my research for this item, I came across Ms. Orrico’s official website. For you future English majors out there, “irony” is the precise moment the word “sexy” comes out of her mole mouth. And, who is that in those pictures (see: photo section) that’s all painted up like a dime store whore, with the ensemble to match? Hey, Kettle…the Pot’s calling…

Behind The Green Door

Longtime readers of 411 have surely heard some of us writers mention the super-secret n’ exclusive staff forum. It’s pretty much where all of the 411 writers congregate to hash out new ideas, discuss current features and gang rape the weak.

Recently, High Chief Widro warned every writer to not give you wonderful readers access to our on-line version of the He-Man Woman Haters Club. Well, that’s Widro’s policy…not mine. And if I can’t bring y’all into our staff forum, then I’ll bring the staff forum to you.

Everything you’re about to read is straight from our message board. Screen names have not been changed to protect the innocent. Comments have been edited for clarity, brevity and, yes, Nipsey.

I give you…”The Cookie Cop Thread”

Ari_Berenstein: So I’m here I am in my house peacefully eating some cereal this morning when I notice on the box of Cookie Crisp that the Cookie Cop is GONE! Instead, the Cookie robbing dog has taken his place! Oh, it gets worse, the Cookie Crook has gone soft… he’s actually BAKING the Cookie Crisp! He’s holding the damned Cookie Crisp on a baking tray and he’s wearing a freaking sweater and OVEN MITTS! OVEN MITTS!

This is a disaster of epic proportions…I need to go make some “MISSING” posters for the poor Cookie Cop.

BillDoughty: I’d like to know what happened to the little wizard that was the Cookie Crisp mascot before the Cookie Cop and Cookie Crook came on the scene. Did he retire? Was he laid off or fired? Or was it (and say this next word in your best “Quincy” voice) murder?

JRFernandez: I was similarly infuriated upon seeing that Cinnamon Toast Crunch had fired two of its three chefs and only kept Wendell. Sure that was like 15 years ago, but it still upsets me every time I think about it.

EMISGOD: How many stupid f*cking cartoon cooks does it take to make some shitty ass cereal, anyway?

JRFernandez: Anyone who thinks Cinnamon Toast Crunch is a shitty cereal needs to be flogged with a pillowcase full of bars of soap.

RyanTMurphy: Does anyone else have the problem I have with Rice Krispies? i.e., they’re so arrid that they never fill you up and you end up absent-mindedly eating like 5 bowlfuls before you realize that you’re making a pig of yourself by eating half the box?

BiscuitiMatt: Rumor has it that the one, fatter, chef actually ATE the other two….

willhelm: Is it any coincidence that around the same time they disappeared the “swirls” appeared in Cinnamon Toast Crunch? Those swirls are made of people!

General Haberdashery

Today marks our ninth consecutive day with a 411 Music news column posting. If any of Widro’s five regular readers are out there, could one of you ask Jon-Jon to acknowledge our record-breaking consistency with a Zone of the Week award and congratulatory brunch?

With the formation of our new weekend news faction The Minority Report, I would think that the latest from Fernandez is worth a plate of chorizo and eggs. Jeff takes the Swindle Sheet on location to Florida and hooks up with the favorite sons of the Sunshine State: Ryan T. Murphy and Trick Daddy. Apparently, they’re not the same person. Jeff, I owe you a Coke.

Canadian T offers up a Bloody Mary with your Bloody Sunday. His latest is akin to an entire buffet as he literally covers nearly every music genre in existence. Something for everyone, to be sure…except that whole french fries with gravy thang that they eat up there.

M’man Smilo makes a great point about links in his column this week, so I’ll steal sample his idea and give you one link (across all of 411) that you should be visiting, if you’re not already.

Joe Reid is the inaugural “one link” this week. He followed up his list of the 20 most anticipated films of 2004 with a list of 20 “Honorable Mentions” and an insane amount of analysis. Plus, he delivers his usual humor and insight in his presentation of the weekly movie news.

If you missed any new columns from 411 Music, you can find it right here. (Memo to Mr. Monday: I had that Paris Hilton/JC Chasez story months ago…try’n keep up, m’kay? I kid, I kid.)

Junk Mail

The week’s most popular query:

Congrats on Baby Bootleg. I hope mother and son are doing good. So, when are we gonna get to see some pics of the heir to the Bootleg empire? – Jerrod

I’ll have some digital photographic goodness up next week. In addition, I’ll even include a few pics of me, with the kid, so y’all can come up with your own jokes about what my head is shaped like.

You’re a big baseball fan…your thoughts on Pay-Rod to the Yankees? Is this the end of baseball as we know it?

Hardly. I actually think, in a way, it’s going to be good for the game. The best player is now on the highest profile team. Maybe MLB will get their heads out of their asses long enough to market this in a way that approaches (but will never surpass) Michael Jordan’s impact on the NBA.

Besides, don’t hand the Evil Empire any rings just yet. This is a team that’s relying on a lot of players who are old, injury-prone or both.

“Henderson” for Baby Bootleg’s middle name? I gotta ask how long you had to persuade wifey to give in on that one. And, while I’m at it, where did y’all come up with “Jalen”?

Heh. “Henderson” was far from a gimmie. The wife wanted “Alexander”, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that traditional names pretty much all suck (sorry, Ashish). So, I floated Rickey’s surname out there to gauge Mrs. Bootleg’s reaction. She just rolled her eyes, but didn’t say “no”. A few weeks later, she mentioned that she ran it by some of her girlfriends and they loved it. I knew, right then, that Henderson was in.

I’m less sure of the specific origin of “Jalen”. While I’m almost certain that hoops star Jalen Rose influenced it in some way, I couldn’t tell you when or where we first heard it or decided on it. Once we found out it was a boy, “Jalen” seemed to be the name from the start. I just hope the kids on the playground come up with a more original taunt than “GAY-len!”

Life With Baby Bootleg

For a kid who was born two months early, Baby Bootleg continues to make tremendous physical and developmental strides. This past week was not without its setbacks, however. The doctors decided to put him on small amounts of the wife’s breast milk and see how he handled it. And, not surprisingly, he wasn’t able to digest it.

Who would think that the breast milk of a woman whose current diet is built on a foundation of bacon, ice cream sandwiches and cream of tomato soup would be anything other than baby poison?

On a related note, the wife proudly called me at work this week to announce her first ever overnight breast milk leakage. I guess it’s fairly common for nursing mothers to just spontaneously spew their dairy stock while they sleep. I, of course, made the requisite joke about tampons for boobs, to which the wife replied they do indeed make “breast pads” for breast feeding broads.

I died a little bit that day.

Discuss the upcoming one-year anniversary of 411Mania! Get at me on AOL or Yahoo IM: ajcameron13