But, before we begin…
Scott Rutherford: Forgive the Australian but what the hell is Zima and why (does Smilo) use it to insult people?
Jed: It’s a “clear beer” that’s more akin to pisswater than anything. That should speak volumes for its insult capability, but perhaps the user means it in a different context…
Rest assured, you missed nothing by being Australian…
-From The He-Man Woman Haters Club (b/k/a The Staff Forums) 7/25/04.
Welcome back to The Bootleg. Can I assume that everyone is familiar with The Guy Code? Y’know…it’s that sacred scripture of rules and regulations that governs interaction between heterosexual males.
This past weekend, there were several blatant violations of The Code and it saddens me to report that the primary perp was someone who was called my “best man” almost two years ago…and my “best friend” for the eighteen years before that.
Our story begins last weekend, just across the Bay from San Francisco, California…the hallowed home of Alcatraz and the fictitious front of Brutus “The Barber” Beefcake. I had flown up last Friday for a wife-free weekend of baseball and bar-hopping.
On the former, my friend came through. He works for a prominent ad agency and my beloved Oakland A’s happen to be one of their clients. As a result, we had access to his company’s exclusive luxury suite for Friday’s game against the hated Texas Rangers. The next day we sat a few rows behind home plate on a sun splashed afternoon and all seemed right with the world.
And, then the sun went down.
My full time partner-in-crime (Vig), his roommate and I piled into his car and headed into “The City”. Now, I’ll put the night scene in San Francisco up against anyplace in the world I’ve ever visited. In the interest of full disclosure, that means we can’t include New York, but we can include Rockville, Maryland and New Bern, North Carolina.
The evening started at a pair of usual hot spots, but the serial sausage-fest at both “Jillian’s” and “Vesuvio” had us all in one (drink) and done mode immediately after entry.
Before we go any further, I should probably mention that I’m married. Fortunately for me, during our wedding, the reverend deliberately dovetailed a “flirting ain’t cheating” proviso into the standard vows. Best $500 I ever spent. Everybody has a price (cue evil laugh).
Third time was a charm, as we rolled into a joint called “Fuse”. I had just been handed my third Jack n’ Coke, when our patience paid off. Three…count ’em: three smokin’ hot women came in together. I’m talkin’ hotter than the first bite of a Hot Pocket fresh out of the microwave sleeve, when the filling nukes all of your mouth’s nerve-endings like some kind of nutritious napalm.
I approached the first girl who finished her drink and offered to buy another for her. Thinking that my boy and his roomie would be over shortly to fight over the other two, I struck up one of those empty bar conversations that feature a fountain of fake laughter and some occasional covert contact.
Admittedly, there’s only so far that a married father with no car or remote knowledge of his actual location can get with a 21-year-old girl he just met, but that’s still no excuse for what happened next.
Vig and his roommate, claiming they were bored, got up and left, walking out side-by-side like a couple of bitch-ass bookends. Now, if I’m single and in San Diego, it’s all good. Not only could I find my way home, but I might actually have something to find my way home from.
As it was, I hastily explained to Crystal, Nicole and Michelle (hey, what can I say…the white girls have always loved me) that I couldn’t play with them anymore. I caught up to my boys at another bar and, in a silent, yet sissified protest, I walked right by them and sat in on a bachelorette party.
The evening went downhill in a hurry as Vig’s roommate insisted on driving to some “better bars”. Yet, despite living in the Bay Area for his entire goddam life, he couldn’t seem to find this Shangri-La of Spirits. We lost nearly 90 minutes while wedged into a Honda and were told that we were “just one more block away” for every block we drove.
We eventually found the place, which was actually one of those psuedo-intellectual coffee houses where old Black men play checkers out front during the day and a cabinet of Thunderbird makes it a “bar” at night. Vig and his roommate sat too close together on a couch, while I took my Pabst over to the Ms. Pac-Man game in the corner until closing.
The evening ended at a Denny’s at 4:00 AM. As we were leaving, a woman accused me (me) of trying to look up her skirt and I responded by stealing two strips of bacon off her plate and walking out. Those crispy, heavily cured, ill-gotten pig products didn’t make up for the entire night, but damn it, they tried…which is more than I can say for my hosts for the evening.
The Goodness would’ve asked for a panty shot before the petty pork theft…
And When Did ‘Ghetto’ Become an Adjective?
Following the lead of their viewers, Method Man revealed this week that he’s not happy with the direction of Fox’s Method & Red sitcom. As the show’s executive producer, he’s reportedly been pushing for the firing of several writers on the grounds that the scripts aren’t…ghetto enough.
Yeah, Meth…I really want to like your show, but it’d be much better with a few bags of apple Jolly Ranchers scattered around the set and more plastic on the furniture. Oh, and can you put something on hydraulics? Now, there’s an untapped resource for surefire laughs! Hey, maybe they can make Beth Littleford’s character into an even bigger fool?
See, us Black folk have been programmed to believe that the uncomfortable antics of white people in “urban” TV and movies is funny (see: the white cop in Sanford & Son or Michael Rappaport in pretty much anything).
Speaking of Beth, does anyone else think that Samantha Bee, Ed Helms and the rest of The Daily Show’s current news correspondents will give up their asses to the show’s producers to keep away from a lifetime sentence of VH1’s I Love The 00s and midseason replacement sitcoms?
F*ck The Police? That’s so 1988!
Hip Hop entrepreneur and early-bird-special stalwart, Russell Simmons, is taking his self-serving brand of bombast to Court TV. And while it should be a crime for a 61-year-old man to wear the same clothes he sells to teenagers, Russell will actually be behind the cameras for a change.
Hip Hop Justice will debut this October and promises an exploration of “the relationship between law enforcement and Hip Hop”. And even though there have been no episodes filmed yet, I managed to obtain a bootleg (!) copy of the Season One DVD. In it, famous rappers say the police are targeting them and the cops deny the accusations. In Season Two, Robert Stack will narrate the re-enactment of the Tupac and Biggie murders…again.
In reality, the series will open with features on the murder conviction of Corey (C-Murder) Miller and the recent federal raid of Irv Gotti’s “Murder Inc.” company. And as a Black man and Hip Hop aficionado, myself, I think I speak for all my people when I say…good job, Five-0…here, have a fresh baked cookie.
People Who Vote Are A Bit Frooo-ty
Here at The Bootleg, we pride ourselves on being the only non-partisan news column on Inside Pulse. It’s not so much a stance on uncompromising values, as it is the bitter taste in my mouth from contributing so much to the ‘Kodos in 96’ campaign, only to see him fall short of The Oval Office.
Anyway, you have my word that whenever a dark-skinned Haitian refugee shows up at the Republican National Convention, it’ll get equal coverage. This week, however, all eyes are on Boston.
No, not the regional baseball bitch-fight between the Yankees and Beantown’s own “Yankees Lite”…but, instead, on singer Lauryn Hill. Word is that she pissed off the good people at MTV when she hastily left a “Rock the Vote” appearance at a pre-Convention gathering last weekend. In fact, Hill left after just one song…and an acoustic one, at that…probably about one of her eight kids.
And when was the last time Lauryn Hill was relevant, anyway…1998? Gee, MTV…were Lord Tariq and Peter Gunz too busy? Was DMX too “detained”? Was Big Pun too dead? (For you non-rap fans, it’s funny because Big Pun is…ah, never mind.)
She Was Probably Working For Ricky Tan
For everyone out there who insists on throwing old rusty pennies into your local mall fountain and attempting to make a wish…might I suggest an upgrade to a dime or quarter? Hey, it worked for me!
Kimora Lee Simmons, the 6-foot-6 mail order maiden of 77-year-old rap gadfly and great-grandfather Russell Simmons, was arrested in Jersey last weekend and charged with eluding a police officer, possession of marijuana, careless driving and operating a vehicle while in possession of a controlled substance.
Seems the cops tried to pull her over for a traffic violation and Kimora didn’t stop until she reached her palatial Saddle Brook estate. Not surprisingly, her husband Russell claimed “racial profiling” and “illegal search and seizure” played a part in the arrest.
Oh yeah…ever since Devon Aoki’s riveting role as “Suki” in 2 Fast 2 Furious, police are on alert for the accelerating Asian women crime wave…a trail of MSG and Honda exhaust left in their wake. Think of them as “The Joy Luck Thugs”. Patent Pending.
Police Academy 8 Can’t Come Soon Enough
Let’s hope it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. Rap music’s Cash Money Minstrel, Lil’ Wayne, just completed filming for his next video at the Ohio State Reformatory. The prison is over 100 years old and has served as the backdrop for many famous films, including The Shawshank Redemption.
Personally, I never understood why films like that and shows like Oz make penitentiary life seem so appealing. There were actually golf scenes shot in the former and Maxim Death Row fashion shoots in the latter (which occurred in the sixth and final season, and thus never happened).
You know what our kids need? More movies like Police AcademyÂ…see, we live in a society of laws. Why do you think we kept going to those Academy sequels in the ’80s? For fun? Well, I didn’t hear anybody laughing, did you? Except at that guywho made sound effects. Where was I? Oh yeahÂ…stay out of my booze.
Sometimes The News Just Writes Itself
In the late ’90s, rap and rock music were melted together like a brick of processed cheese and the results were positively Velveetian. While acts like Korn and Limp Bizkit have dominated the rap-hybrid scene, could the 21st century see a shift from rap-rock to rap-country?
I am not making this up.
“Quick Draw” Tim McGraw is currently out on tour and the surprising highlight of his set has been the performance of “Cowboy Troy”…a brutha in full (fool?) cowboy attire who spits rhymes and shares the mic with McGraw during the live stage show.
Troy got his start 15 years ago as a rapper in Texas. Since then, he’s been trying to get his foot in the industry’s door, before finally finding fame (rhymes with “shame”) with the blatant theft of Laurence Fishburne’s “Cowboy Curtis” gimmick from the old Pee Wee’s Playhouse show.
And outside of Tom Hanks’ run after Bosom Buddies, there probably has never been a greater career recovery than what ol’ Morpheus has pulled off in the last twenty years. Speaking of which, there are countless concessions I have made in my lifetime just to keep my membership in the African-American community in good standing.
Subscribing to Jet Magazine, sitting through an entire season of Patti LaBelle’s Out All Night sitcom and being seen in public with FUBU gear on were just some of the sacrifices.
But, I will never claim that The Matrix or any of its nonsensical sequels were the least bit entertaining. Can just one brutha sing its praises without mentioning the special effects or fight scenes? It was little more than a virtual video game and Ninja Gaiden had a much better plot.
Nick’a Please
conceptualized by Nick Salemi
Am I the only one annoyed with ESPN this week? Isn’t this whole Sports and Music thing just a little bit too contrived? Is this, along with the ESPYs, more of ESPN’s “brand building”? What happened to giving me the scores from last night’s game? (How many question marks am I going to use?)
Don’t get me wrong. Anytime I get to see clips of Deion Sanders’ Must Be The Money video, I gotta give it up. But the fact that they’re still using that song as an example of athletes who are aspiring artists, is a testament to what a half-assed effort they’re putting into this. That was a decade ago for god’s sake.
They even dusted off footage of Jack McDowell talking about his band, too. Folks, Blackjack is long since irrelevant in either genre.
ESPN also referenced the Big Miami Heatian Shaq. Obviously for his unforgettable jams like Biological Didn’t Bother and Shoot, Pass, Slam.
That being said, nothing could prepare me for the musical performances that took place on Sportscenter this week. Lloyd Banks performed his new single I’m So Fly and after it was over, the cameras cut back to the desk and I distinctly heard one anchor jokingly say, “you so fly” to the other.
(You can almost hear the announcers during Banks’ set saying “Shhhhh! You’re scaring the white people!”)
That’s it. I can take Stuart Scott doing it, but not the rest of these clowns. AJC also pointed out the fact that ESPN announcer Steve Levy referred to Banks a “real O.G.”
I’m patiently waiting for Levy to drop a verse in Banks’ monotone laid back flow:
Steve so fly/ with his tight suits and Windsor knot ties
droppin hockey updates all the time/ Steve so fly
Steve Levy son / now they callin me the OG
F** Melrose and his mullet / Bowman couldn’t coach me
And I find it odd that ESPN is running Sports and Music week, mere months after Bootleg/Nicka Please ran several columns on the same subject.
However, the suits in Bristol forgot to mention the best athlete-album of all time, B-Ball’s Best Kept Secret .
Try and keep up ESPN, the Bootleg and Nicka Please so fly…
General Haberdashery
This week’s links pay homage to the 20-year anniversary of the new Saturday morning cartoon schedule for the fall of 1984. After our undisputed dominance in the Summer Olympics that year, America turned a wary eye to an animated line-up without Pac-Man for the first time since 1982.
Movie Joe Reid gets the Pole Position this week. Do me a favorÂ…read Joe (HA!) from top to bottom, as he drops his best effort of the year. If you don’t laugh at least once while reading his 7/23 column, I’ll personally mail you one dollar. No lie…no strings attached. Maybe if Freaks & Geeks had used this approach they’d still be on the air.
Joe Reid: And hey, now I’ve got Mathan linking me.
That Bootleg Guy: Bastard.
Joe Reid: I will NOT come between the two members of the African American faction at Inside Pulse.
Joe Reid: I’d much rather play Owen Hart to your Nation of Domination.
Fernandez has an ear for music like a young Rowlf the Dog. He says ‘goodbye’ to the rock n’ roll McRib Sandwich and ‘hello’ to his upcoming one-year anniversary.
Canadian T. goes one-on-one with a random writer from our 411 Black zone. Hopefully, the ‘T’ stands for Tyg the Tiger as he’ll need all his strength to take on Lars Ulrich and Cannibal Corpse. Oh, and Super Punch-Out for the Super NES never happened. Like the sixth season of Oz or George Foreman’s short-lived sitcom…it was all a (Mr.) Dream.
Double M runs longer than Gargamel’s never-ending quest to capture all those little blue-skinned, white-hatted turds. You music fans should rejoice, since he’s pretty much focusing all his energies on this column, while turning his back on the wrestling column and fans who made him what he is today…sound familiar? If ya smell what the Melch is cookin’.
Smilo makes it two weeks in a row, which gets him more than halfway to the length of The Mighty Orbots’ run on ABC. Smilo bashes Napoleon, Widro bashes Eric Katz (or does he?) and yours truly, That Bootleg Guy, Aaron Jonathan Cameron…one word: “shoot interview”! Give or take a word.
Evocator has left the building. I tried to hunt down my favorite EM column, but it proved as elusive as capturing The Legion of Doom. Check the archives and hunt down his caustic commentary on Wendy’s Homestyle Chicken Strips and follow his feuds with…well, everybody.
Life With Baby Bootleg
You’ll all be glad to know that they have finally invented something that’s more annoying than the “Baby on Board” sign. It’s called “The Mommy Mirror” and it’s supposed to provide a sense of peace and comfort for nervous mothers.
Just attach the mirror to the back seat of your car…right above the infant safety seat and the driver will now be able to see the child. Of course, as I recently discovered, this is at the complete disregard of the freakin’ road.
The wife was clipping crossing guards (“just the curb, honey”), grazing guardrails (“those sparks are normal”) and rolling over wheel chaired war veterans (“Greatest Generation, my ass!”) and ignoring any and all traffic laws, just because Jalen started to cry. And don’t think I failed to notice how my cries were ignored as I tried to gnaw my way out of my seatbelt and jimmy open the child safety locks on the passenger’s side.
Sure, we were doing about 40 mph, but I’d rather take my chances with the old “tuck n’ roll” out of the side door than ride shotgun for another mile with Sister Magoo.
Mrs. Bootleg’s Quote of the Week
“Do you think we should get a cleaning lady?”
The Bootlegs…get a maid?
Is it worth the chants of “You sold out!” at the barbershop and check-cashing place, just to have lemony-fresh sinks and stove tops? Yes…yes, it is. In fact, I asked a co-worker about the woman he uses and the following day, I found a post-it note stuck to my computer with the name “Mercedes” scrawled across it.
Was this the name of a cleaning lady or a stripper? If her last name were “Miceli”, I’d sure feel a lot better.
The wife e-mailed me a list of questions to ask and, buried among the usual queries about cost and cleanliness was this gem:
Are you licensed and bonded in the state of California?
Now, I don’t want to generalize here…but, we live in San Diego. From our house, it’s about a 40-minute drive to the border. We have road signs on our freeways that caution drivers about people running across all five lanes at all hours of the day.
“Licensed and bonded in California”? Mercedes probably doesn’t exist in California. Do you know what Mercedes did for her first 22 years in the States? Kitchen counterintelligence. Mercedes is gone…there is no Mercedes.
Aaron’s “one dollar” offer is a lie with many strings attached and is not valid anywhere. Get at me on AOL or Yahoo IM: ajcameron13
