The Friday Music News Bootleg

Welcome back to The Bootleg. And welcome to the final Inside Pulse music news (HA!) column of 2004. Since most of you probably started drinking several hours ago, I’ll keep this short”¦after all, that Law & Order: SVU marathon on USA isn’t going to watch itself, y’know.

My sincerest thanks to everyone who made The Goodness a part of their Fridays in 2004.

Let’s see, in the last 12 months, this column was the target of an organized hate mail campaign from the students and faculty of the University of Connecticut”¦Nick walked y’all through the making of the mixtape”¦We suggested bodily harm befall the 5-year-old son of a famous NBA player.

We called Linda Cohn “hot”, for someone who really was “not””¦And, after 18 months under the 411, me and the heart of the music staff woke up to find ourselves”¦here.

Oh, and my son, Jalen was born. This really was the greatest year ever!

So, sit back and let me take you through 2004″¦this is a shamelessly self-serving soliloquy, so I’ll understand if you’d rather”¦ah, go ahead n’ read it”¦clip shows kick ass!

And here’s the last of the original content you’ll see this year from this site”¦courtesy of our super-secret Inside Pulse Staff Forums:

FYI, here are the reader awards (ballot). Seriously, though, thank you to everyone who’s made this such a great few months at Inside Pulse Music. But what I WILL do is beg AND plead that we don’t let Aaron have bragging rights for the second year in a row…. -Matthew Michael, IP Music Zone Editor

Well, well, well”¦I guess the chickens have come home to roost! (I never understood that saying, but just try to imagine when Denzel Washington uttered that same line in Malcolm X)

Good to know I’ve got the support of my peers, as if I’ve waved my 2003 Music Staffer of the Year the face of Matthew “2nd Place” Michael all year long.

In all seriousness, let your voice be heard and hand out the awards for best in Music (and the IP Music Zone) 2004! Vote for the best songs, albums, performers and IP staffers and help ensure that your choices are better than the staff’s”¦Lord, just wait until you see who won 2004 Rap Album of the Year (as voted on by IP)”¦ugh.

The 2004 Inside Pulse Music Zone Readers’ Ballot!

You’ll need to register on our forums, if you haven’t already, but it just takes a minute and for every soul that joins, Widro gets another 100 years of life.

Nick’a Please
conceptualized by Nick Salemi

Think of this as a little add-on bonus feature to last week’s Bootleg/Nick’a Please. I’d like to drop some quick thoughts on the best artist mixtapes of the year…There’s no point in reviewing (DJ mixes Clue, Kay Slay, Big Mike, etc) because they all have the same songs.

1. Jadakiss, The Champ is Here

Jada warned us he was takin’ over on the streets before he released his 2nd full-length album. Mixtape giant Green Lantern was at the helm for this one. Yeah, a lot of it ended up being on Kiss of Death but heads are STILL hollerin “the champ is here” everywhere.

2. Redman, Ill At Will Vol. 1

With Red Gone Wild still not released, Reggie Noble dropped this mixtape classic, which I reviewed back in March. Redman with the freedom to use any beat without sample clearance is truly a sight to behold”¦uh…sound to hear. Hopefully his Gilla House entertainment label will keep heads satisfied until the full-length album hits. Volume 2 just dropped, so that should hold the Funkdoc’s fans over but Red it’s been since the Summer of 2001since we last heard from your stankin ass! Reggie don’t leave me
hangin! On second thought, if he just keeps releasing two of these mixtapes a year I’ll be fine with that.

3. Beanie Sigel, Public Enemy #1

With Beans legal trouble no doubt interfering with his 3rd disc, he still had time to team up with the Evil Genius Green Lantern to drop a blazin hot mixtape. The whole Def Jam/Rocafella reshuffling isn’t helping speed up the process of a new album, so don’t sleep on this mix as it’s Sigel doin what he does best.

4. ODB, Osirus

Please be on the lookout for people who retroactively have become ODB fans now that he’s dead. In all seriousness, RIP to Ol Dirt Dawg and for no other reason than to hear ODB spit fire over a DJ Premier beat (with phenomenal ODB scratches and samples) on Pop Shots, you gotta check this one out.

5. 3 Way Tie

It must be said that The Game, Lloyd Banks and Cam’ron all held it down on mixtapes this year for sure. They all appeared on multiple mixes, too so I won’t get into all of em.

Irrelevant Closing Point

As we close 2004, a quick nod to someone who will be forgotten at the 2005 Oscars…

I would like to thank actor Barry Pepper for his inspiring portrayal of Dale Earnhardt’s mustache in the ESPN classic 3. The thing crawls into his mouth for god’s sake and should be listed separately in the credits. I can only assume they brought in Tom Selleck and Sam Elliot as mustache consultants to ensure authenticity and that fans of (gasp) NASCAR would be pleased that the Earnhardt facial hair was “portrayed as he would have wanted it”.

We can only hope that the DVD extras provide a featurette: Earnhardt: The Making of a Mustache.

The Best of the Bootleg: 2004!

Over the years, Pepsi has tried just about anything to snag whatever bit of Coke’s market share that they could get. Unfortunately, gimmicks like Pepsi Blue and Crystal Pepsi were propped up on millions of dollars of hype, only to fail to deliver when the curtain went up. Think of them as the 2003 New York Yankees in refreshing beverage form”¦

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Much to my disappointment, this is not a celebration of the 10-year anniversary of the all-girl western movie of the same name. Who’d have thought that a story of four prostitutes in leather chaps and spurs wouldn’t hold my interest”¦but there ya go”¦

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Finally, and most recently, there was the internal brouhaha over the nominations (or lack thereof) for the best music writer award:

Does anyone else think it’s f*cked up that I wasn’t nominated for best music writer? I mean seriously, no offense to Ari Berenstien (sic) or Kenny Hammond but they JUST started writing here and they can’t have half a fanbase yet. That is seriously f*cked up, and I am pissed off about it. It’s not like I haven’t written anything at all, I’ve been really consistent for a lot of 2003. So seriously, f*ck you Widro.

That was straight off our staff forum from m’man”¦well, out of respect, I won’t use his real name. Let’s just say it rhymes with “cryin'”¦please burp me”. Anyways, the good news is that all the bruised egos were assuaged and the required period of mocking him will blow over in another month or two”¦.

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The highlights of (Jessica Simpson’s) “D’lish” include a whipped body cream, chocolate body gloss, powdered sugar body shimmer and a”¦”lip-plumping fragrance”. Who buys this shit? Anyways, the company promises that everything they offer will come in three edible flavors: “creamy”, “dreamy” and “juicy”. Meanwhile, the lip-plumping items will be offered in “Angelina Jolie”, “Julia Roberts” and, yes, “ESPN’s NFL Countdown Host Tom Jackson””¦with or without crust”¦

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Y’know”¦it wasn’t that long ago when I actually enjoyed my weekends. Now, I feel like Will Ferrell in Old School, whenever anyone comes over to my cubicle and asks about my weekend plans on Friday afternoon.

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It seems that Mr. Yayo was in possession of a forged passport”¦that he unknowingly handed over to his parole officer during a standard post-release review. No lie”¦I actually saw Jessica Simpson quoted as saying, “Damn, now that’s a stupid mutha f*cka.””¦

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It seems that his wife recently stumbled upon Mr. Brown’s secret life. Oh, yeah”¦by day he’s the man who gave the world legendary hits like I Feel Good and Papa Got A Brand New Bag. However, under the darkness of night”¦he performs as acclaimed actress Cicely Tyson“¦

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Finally, in what can only be called the golden renaissance of women in hip hop, the 21st century paved the way for trailblazers like “that girl in the 50 Cent video”¦you know, the one with the Juicy-Fruit â„¢ ass and the light eyes”¦she’s mixed, like Black and Indian”¦do you have any pictures of her you can email me?” Whoops, sorry”¦for some reason, I started typing the text of every other email I get from you people…

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We can safely say that the world of entertainment hasn’t seen such a prolific union of evil since Darth Vader and The Emperor shared the screen in Return of the Jedi. In fact, I think the eventual meeting between (Michael) Jackson and (R.) Kelly should incorporate as much dialogue from the third part of the Star Wars trilogy, as possible:

Kelly: The new album will be completed on schedule.

Jackson: You have done well, R. Kelly. And now I sense you wish to continue your search for young girls.

Kelly: Yes, Michael.

Jackson: Patience, my friend. In time, they will seek you out. And when they do, you must cover the lens before you pee. And see if she has a brother. Only together can we turn them to the dark side of your ass”¦and the light side of mine”¦

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The next day (Saturday), I was leaving the barbershop and called the wife to let her know that I was on my over.

“They want to deliver the baby today.”, she said.

I powered up the Saturn and almost managed to get that tinfoil rickshaw up to 40 mph, as I arrived at the hospital at 11:30 AM. Mrs. Bootleg’s room was filled with doctors, nurses and specialists who were all speaking the medical equivalent of whatever Lil’ Jon & The Eastside Boyz call English…

Picture, if you will, a six foot tall, 185 pound brutha in XXL jeans, Eddie Bauer long-sleeved shirt and a pair of bulky Lugz boots. Now, add a fluffy powder blue shower cap, a delivery room “jumpsuit” to cover my clothes and some medical “shoe covers”.

I looked like a thug mushroom.

I casually glanced down to the floor just in time to see a pool of blood forming on the other side. The delivering nurse apparently thought I was passing out, so she (yes, she) punched me in the shoulder and asked if I was all right.

I’m tellin’ ya”¦that f*ckin’ wildebeest hit me like Bald Bull. I wasn’t passing out, but if she had landed on my chin, I would’ve been.

Since this was my first rodeo, I was prepared for a long, drawn out delivery. I tried to find some empty words of comfort to calm my wife down, but it appeared the drugs had already beaten me to it. She looked vacantly at me as I rambled on about nothing in particular (Who says my writing philosophy ain’t portable?)

Mere minutes after I entered the room, the doctors on the other side of the curtain exclaimed, “There he is!” I heard a few brief, raspy baby yelps from the other side”¦and totally f*ckin’ lost it. Man, I had one of those nasty runny nose, inconsolable, slobbering kind of crying jags that are usually only seen when ABC gets those great close-up shots of the losers in the Little League World Series Championship game.

On Saturday, February 7th at 1:22 PM, my son, Jalen Henderson Cameron, was born.

Henderson? As in future Hall of Famer and longtime Oakland Athletic Rickey Henderson? You bet’cha!

The Vitals
Weight: 3 lbs. 1 oz.
Length: 16 inches
Arrival: 9 weeks premature

It’s been almost a week and mother and child are doing great. Mrs. Bootleg is still very sore from her Caesarian, which I’m told is not nearly as delicious as his salads (ooh, especially when you get it with blackened chicken on top). The wife should be home as you read this, while Jalen will continue to live in the ICU for six to eight more weeks.

He’s in great hands with the hospital staff, though, and I’m counting down the days until I’m changing a diaper with one hand and typing up The Goodness with the other. Pray that I remember which hand is which”¦

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No bashing (of the wife) this week, though. It’s all part of that nefarious bargain I made with God when He got the wife and the kid through this whole ordeal OK. As a result, I’m compelled to do his bidding”¦for now“¦

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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”¦

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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”¦

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Can I ask you a question? Do you like”¦pancakes? Plain old pancakes with a pat of butter and some syrup from one of those delightful freed slaves/spokeswomen like Mrs. Buttersworth or Aunt Jemima. I guess I’m a purist when it comes to pancakes, as I’ve resisted the blueberry insurgency and maintain that “buckwheat” is Spanky’s friend and Darla’s fantasy”¦not a pancake ingredient”¦

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Now, I have it on good authority that a trophy presentation is being planned for this year’s Video Music Awards. I hear that Nick (Lachey’s) trophy will be half the size of his wife’s, despite his longer entertainment career and 15 undefeated years in the ring. The following week, Nick will officially turn heel and align with Bobby “The Brain” Heenan on an episode of Piper’s Pit. He will then tear off Jessica’s crucifix and demand a “wuurd shempeeinship mash”. And if I have to explain that reference to you”¦you’re on the wrong f’n site”¦

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Have I become my father? One of those “back-in-my-day” cats who pines for simpler times, when Snoop Dogg had a middle name and Dr. Dre hadn’t yet found laurels to rest on? Someone get me my rocking chair and tell those kids to stay away from my car”¦.

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More importantly, American society is spared the three scariest on-screen words in the English language: “Starring Janet Jackson””¦

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We all know (Tyra Banks) earned that role in Higher Learning with some quality time on John Singleton’s rented, plastic-covered casting couch. But, did you actually watch the movie? Aside from being three feet taller than co-star Omar Epps, the one lasting image I have is (her) death scene. It was so bad, I wanted Michael Rappaport to put two more bullets in her”¦just to make sure”¦

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For those of you don’t know, for years (Russell) Simmons has been refusing to go quietly into his booth at Denny’s for the senior’s menu and the early bird special. In fact, in addition to his clothing line and music empire, he also started up a grassroots campaign to get young adults registered to vote. He’s taken the Urban Outfitters’ shirt personally and offered up this zesty retort:

“Maybe Phat Farm should make a T-shirt that reads: ‘Shopping at Urban Outfitters Is For Old People”¦'”

Ooooooooooooooh”¦that’s telling ’em, Russell. Maybe after that, Phat Farm can mass-produce the same XXXL jeans you wear to keep that catheter bag hidden as “your little yellow secret”. For the unsophisticated, I’m talking about urine, not Woody Allen’s”¦ah, never mind.

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With the kid positioned correctly (and goin’ to town, I might add), a nurse wanders over and asks to see our wristbands. Never mind that the kid has been drinkin’ Mrs. Bootleg’s moo juice for a good five minutes, now. I mean”¦are there serial breast-feeders running around the greater San Diego area that I don’t know about? Predatory women with swollen mammary glands who yearn to be gummed by unsuspecting infants?”¦

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Or maybe Nipsey Russell would grace us with a few bars on $25,000 Pyramid. For those who don’t know, he was the token Afro-American Poet Laureate of daytime television”¦a Leaping Leroy Poffo, if you will”¦

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It’s about 11:00 AM and I’m in a meeting with my boss, our Director of Finance and one of our Program Managers. As the youngest and Blackest guy in the room, can you guess whose fault everything was that day? Apparently, I was to blame for not only our stalled two million dollar proposal, but also for the last season of Oz and the continued, unexplained popularity of The O.C”¦

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We were told he passed all of his tests (and, if he’s like his old man, he must’ve found some really smart babies to copy off of), so we could come and get him. He still needs to be hooked up to a heart rate/breathing monitor, so me and the wife spent 30 minutes that day getting trained on how to use one.

Never mind that the guy who was supposed to train us (wearing skin-tight acid-washed Levi’s, a Bugle Boy(!) shirt and black Reebok hi-tops) didn’t seem to know a damn thing about the machine, himself, but if I ever need one of those “Frankie Say Relax” t-shirts, I know where to go.

“I’m not sure what this signal means.””¦a direct quote from the monitor guy.

“That’s OK”¦he only needs this to live.””¦a direct reply from me”¦

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For example, in many ways, we’ve succeeded with the launch of 411 Black. However, our planned daily advice column, specifically targeted for Canadian-Asians, Warren Woo & You never really got past the developmental stage”¦

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Chuck D. should just climb out of the rocking chair once or twice a year, shuffle onstage to claim his lifetime achievement award, wave to the crowd who has no idea who he is and leave before the early-bird special expires. I hear the chicken fried steak is divine”¦

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It was clear you needed help with the column that you write
They brought in Nick’a Please cuz the Bootleg was too white

You had your “One Shining Moment”, But it’s my turn now
Filled my Cameron brackets out/you got bounced in the first round

Salemi gets Diced?/Sell the Bootleg with my name
it’s YOUR motherf**kin column/sad that I get more fame?

Nick’a Please is an original/ we know who’s the biter
Now make like your boy Op Prime and transform into a better writer
-Nick Salemi

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You know who I blame for all this celebrity gaming crap? That’s right”¦Shaq Fu. See, kids”¦back in 1993 we weren’t content with our athletes making obscene amounts of money just for playing sports. And what better way to further the Shaq brand than by starring in a side-scrolling adventure game that was 12 months out of date the moment it was released in stores? Hey, Shaq”¦maybe that’s why biological didn’t bother”¦

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If I’m forced to choose, then I guess I have to side with Nelly on this one. I mean I’m married to one Black woman. I can’t imagine having to stand up in front of 5,000 of them”¦each one more pissed off than the last. I hear that HMOs throughout the Atlanta area were salivating at the thought of all those whiplash cases from the copious amounts of neck-swiveling and finger snappin’. See the things that I can say, but you can’t?”¦

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Look, I really wish our world was like the final scene of City Slickers where everyone gets to take a calf home with them and lives happily ever after. Unfortunately, life’s a lot more painful, like most of the scenes in City Slickers 2. Cows get eaten”¦bad movies get made”¦Helen Slater is nowhere to be found”¦and Jon Lovitz ruins everything”¦

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Mrs. Bootleg and I have been married for about 18 months and I’m shocked that a Black couple, like us, hasn’t found a use for our wok, yet. You mean to tell me you can’t stir fry collard greens?

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Have you seen the early screen shots from the Catwoman movie? Woof. Admittedly, Black people don’t exactly have the greatest big-screen super-hero pedigree to reference, but the early betting line has this one coming in as the second-worst of all time”¦just ahead of Damon Wayans’ Blankman, but still nowhere near the level of Shaquille O’Neal’s Steel. Also receiving votes: Robert Townsend’s Meteor Man and Bill Cosby’s Ghost Dad”¦

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While the network is claiming that (VH1 Hip Hop Honors) will be an annual event, I have a hard time believing that a show built upon the hypertension, creaky knees and orthopedic gold dentures of “MC Replacement Hip” or “Mix Master A.A.R.P.” will have much staying power”¦

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Now, given the ghetto fabulous nature of the parties involved, I have no doubt that we’ll be seeing everyone on Judge Joe Brown in a few weeks. Y’know, they could really make it must-see-TV if they rolled in Judge Phillip Banks from whatever Crisco-and-crullers induced coma he’s in. Or, even better, try’n hunt down the judge who sat on the bench for the trial of Col. Nathan Jessup in A Few Good Men.

“And Ludacris will address the court as ‘judge’ or ‘your honor'”¦I’m quite certain I’ve earn it. Take your seat, n*gga.”

I love that movie”¦

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“The guy from Dumb & Dumber that dies from eating hot peppers” as Steve Balboni
AC: Our readers kick ass, period.

Old School Ice Cube as Mel Hall
AC: Probably my personal favorite and near dead-ringers when both were rocking the jheri curls.

Dave Chappelle as Pascual Perez AND Claudell Washington
AC: In an intriguing dual role, Chappelle portrays both a slow-witted Dominican and an introspective clubhouse leader.

-The Joe Reid/Aaron Cameron 1989 New York Yankees Casting Call

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True story: last weekend I picked up Season One of Dave Chappelle on DVD. Right next to it was the complete Dilbert UPN series. How bad was that show”¦? The producers of Homeboys In Outer Space told me they thought it could’ve been funnier”¦

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I haven’t seen too much of (Stacey Dash) lately, so I can only assume that she’s at “stage three” of the “Joan Severance Career Path”.

Stage One”¦Establish Yourself As a B-Level Sex Symbol as Joan did with Hear No Evil, See No Evil and Stacey did with Mo’ Money.

Stage Two”¦Watch Your Career Tank & Accept Roles in Soft-Core Porn as Joan did with Dangerous Indiscretion and Stacey did with Illegal in Blue.

Finally, Stage Three”¦Sit at Home by the Phone and Hope That Casting Agents Didn’t See Those Scenes With Eric Roberts or Treat Williams Licking Your Ass“¦and the phone never rings”¦

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Didn’t the Huxtables seem to know every Black professional in the country? I half-expected Booker T. Washington and George Washington Carver to split a bag of peanuts with Cockroach in a sweeps month cameo”¦

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I’m basically Shawn Kemp with a marriage license, eight less kids and no urge to beat myself with an ugly stick”¦

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I guess I shouldn’t paint my people with the same brush. It might be time to get the message to White folk, too”¦enough with the new-age names!

Why does every first-born girl after 1998 have to be named “Madison”, “Morgan”, “Jordan” or “Kaitlin”? These names work as long as she’s playing soccer on her 13-year-old traveling team and maybe until she’s studying for a final while wearing a ballcap with her ponytail sticking out of the back.

But, once little “Dakota” starts having kids of her own it ceases being cute. Why do you think there are no grown men with names like “Toby” or “Jeremy”? And don’t tell me you didn’t know at least a half-dozen of these guys when you were in grade school”¦

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Of course, you know it’s high-quality, since Lil Kim would never connect her name with shoddy merchandise, save for Old Navy, Candies shoes and her last three albums.

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And has enough time passed yet for everyone to admit that, as a singer, Alliyah was just OK? She was easy on the eyes and could march in step with her back-up dancers, but was there really anything that separated her from Ashanti or J-Lo? Well, except for R. Kelly pissin’ on her back at age 15 and a laughably ludicrous role in a schlocky vampire movie”¦

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I mean, how much longer is this ‘gay craze’ going to last in America? Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, WWE Raw and Danny Boy can’t be popular forever, can they?”¦

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15 years ago, P.E. was dropping angry and acidic anthems like Fight The Power and today, they’re walking arm-in-arm with Moby? Is this what becomes of all middle-aged militants? Is The Nation of Domination joining forces with Three Count on the indy circuit? Is Grimlock sharing a two-bedroom condo with Bumblebee on the dark side of Cybertron? Damn it, has Michael Evans from Good Times married Cindy Brady?

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Don’t get me wrong”¦I’m not trying to trivialize the man’s death, but can we have just a little perspective here? (Reagan) was 93. That’s more than three lifetimes in Logan’s Run.

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I hate the Lakers with a flaming, bowel-obstructed passion. I was born in L.A”¦I was raised in L.A”¦and I still can’t stand the Lakers. I grew up during the NBA’s first renaissance in the 1980s, with Magic Johnson, “Big Game” James Worthy and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar leading the way to four world championships for the purple and gold yellow and I still wouldn’t tap the brakes if I saw one of ’em walking through an intersection.

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And is anyone else surprised that Curt Schilling isn’t involved in this (Dropkick Murphy) project at all? This sounds like the perfect opportunity for that glad-handing sycophant to further saturate the landscape with his jowly mug”¦

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(The Black Movie Rules state) there must be one ostracized brutha who has left his strong Black woman”¦for a white girl. The audience must throw popcorn at the screen whenever he’s on camera.

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Black folk can enjoy the hilarious African-American themed comedy (of In Living Color, while white people can point to Jim Carrey and say, “take that, you Black bastards.””¦

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If I’m Lynne Spears, I’m doing two things right now”¦inappropriately touching my daughters and preparing my defense.

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Hasn’t Scooby-Doo taught us that ’70s cartoons just don’t translate into enjoyable feature films? Although, I’ll admit that the casting of Omarosa as Hong Kong Phooey or Nick Salemi as Inch High Private Eye does have potential.

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Now, I know what you’re thinking: this is just a cheap way to fill the required Nate Dogg reference for the week, but I’m telling you”¦I tried it and it works. Seriously, can we find a way to get Nate a deal to do a children’s album?

This little piggy went to tha sto’
The second one stayed home (locked dowwwwn)
The third little piggy had mad roast beef
The forf little one had none (nuh-uhhhh)
That last little piggy went wee wee wee wee-wee-wee (all tha way hooooo-ooome)

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Now, I’ll admit”¦in my younger days, I slapped my share of fatback and caressed my share of back fat. Big girls need sweet lovin’, too, so please don’t think I’m being disrespectful here”¦but, has there ever been a more disturbing naked celebrity image than Macy Gray’s orange-freckled neck, chest and ass? Is there anything even in the same area code?

Other than the Kathy Bates/Saran Wrap scene from Fried Green Tomatoes and the “Gluttony” victim autopsy scene from Seven, I’m going to have to say, “no”.

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So, (Paris Hilton’s) record is going to sound like some white girls immersed in Black culture? More importantly, do 90% of the NBA wives know someone is planning to steal their gimmick?

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We get it”¦Larry Bird was a great player who helped revive the league in the 1980s. He’d also outlived his relevance to the game nearly five years before this movie came out and Jurassic Park already covered the concept of dinosaurs in the modern world”¦

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And not just any Autobot, but one that could transform”¦into a microscope. Wasn’t the point of the whole “transforming” thing to be a robot in disguise? I guess Perceptor would’ve been the best choice to get the jump on Megatron”¦if he ever invaded Mr. McNeely’s seventh grade science fair.

“Drop the Styrofoam solar system, Starscream!”

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Don’t kid yourself, if a cow ever got the chance, he’d eat you and everyone you care about. Don’t believe me? Well, then how do you explain the disappearance of Helen Slater, Bruno Kirby and the Black father n’ son dentists between City Slickers 1 & 2?

And, my”¦didn’t Norman the calf gain quite a bit of weight between the two movies? Admittedly, most of that was the undigested career of Daniel Stern.

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It’s a rumor that just won’t die”¦like that cow in Me, Myself & Irene or Elizabeth Taylor (turns out they weren’t the same person”¦tell Joe Reid, I owe him a Coke)”¦

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Think about that. The voices that unite the unwashed and unemployed over who should be the Jets back-up quarterback think they’re higher up on the evolutionary scale than someone. It’s almost like a wrestling fan making fun of anything.

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Well, I think we can safely say that Mr. Kilmer’s hopes of recapturing the magic from Tombstone are pretty much dead and buried, left to fester with the Ghost and The Darkness on a lonely Island as The Saint performs last rites under the warm glow of the Red Planet.

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Seems the cops tried to pull her over for a traffic violation and Kimora (Lee Simmons) 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.

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Welcome back to The Bootleg. And welcome to the launch week of Inside Pulse or, as most of you are probably calling us by now”¦411DifferentFont.

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The shall-remain-nameless person in question was an old friend of mine from high school. Her and my wife haven’t exactly”¦well, let’s just say that lately their relationship has been more “Kirstie Alley and carrots” than “Kirstie Alley and carrot cake”.

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And, besides”¦aren’t Black men his age (102) supposed to be mall-walkers, Wal-Mart greeters or non-threatening Negro contributors to a Ken Burns’ documentary?

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That_Bootleg_Guy: By the by…ask Ashish if he wants a seventh raw recapper…I might know someone.

411 Movies’ Joe Reid: “¦and you can ask Widro if he plans on including a pinwheel spiral graphic on the main page just to complete the process of my eyes melting out of my skull”¦

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The following day, she asked me if there was anyway I could parlay my writing into some additional household income.

I’m a music news writer for a professional wrestling website.

There’s only one kind of writing that those of us on Inside Pulse will ever be able to turn into cold, hard cash:

Dear Bank Teller…I have a gun…Put all the money in this bag and don’t hit the alarm or slip in a dye pack…

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Although, somehow the combination worked on Cheers with Norm Peterson and his fictitious wife, Vera. Norm, in fact, “killed” Vera in a rage at the end of season five, along with Shelly Long’s better judgment.

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And as detailed during Back to the Future, it was actually Michael J. Fox, not Chuck Berry, who ushered in the African-American era of rock n’ roll. Why, even today, Fox is still shaking and swaying and shimmying in perfect time with the…hey, wait…how come I don’t hear any music?

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I imagine beachfront property is going to be hard to come by once the next number five starter for the Yankees washes ashore.

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I could accept the disembodied voice in the cornfield. Maybe someone would destroy their farm to build a baseball diamond. Hell, I’ll even look the other way when the filmmakers had the “Shoeless” Joe Jackson character throw with the wrong hand. But, James Earl Jones…as a Black baseball fan in modern times? Such a creature just doesn’t exist.

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Now, I’m not trying to say that Fargo, North Dakota is on the outskirts of society, but the locals tell me that Joaquin Phoenix is still waiting for “Ivy” to come back with his goddam medicine.

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For many of my readers, this is your last weekend of drunken debauchery and no-strings-attached sex before heading back to school. At least until next weekend, when you’ll have to mix in a little bit of the three R’s with your rum and rohypnol.

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Predictably, the Hip Hop community is all up in arms and, in a shocking show of solidarity, six or seven of them might actually register to vote this year. As long as someone can watch their kids.

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With the blessing of his widow Yoko Ono, Nike plans to create an ad campaign based on the cover of The Beatles Abbey Road album. Lennon’s signature will be featured on the heel and lyrics from Imagine will be stenciled on the shoe’s toes. Man, unless these shoes make you faster than a speeding bullet, I can’t really see how Nike intends to market them.

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Not too long ago, Beenie released a single called Bad Man Chi Chi Man which, loosely translated means “Bad Man, Queer Man”. Curiously, that was also the original name for the Ed Leslie gimmick that eventually became The Booty Man.

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Britney Spears was a no-show at this year’s Video Music Awards. I guess it’s no big deal, really, but I hear that MTV had to work extra hard in her absence to come up with one of their patented contrived “shocking” events that Kurt Loder, Kennedy and Martha Quinn will be telling us about during next year’s 20-year anniversary VMA roundtable. Tabitha Soren is your scheduled moderator, while Bill Bellamy’s lips and wet-curl fade are slated to appear via satellite.

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What could possibly make this story even more unbelievable? Well, the home is tucked away in an exclusive South Beach community that’s home to several celebrities. Among those that filed formal complaints were neighbors Rosie O’Donnell, Gloria Estefan and Shaquille O’Neal.

Now, there’s a Homeowner’s Association meeting I would love to attend. Could you save me a seat next to the lesbian mother of two? Maybe afterwards we can pass out surplus copies of Shaq Fu? Just make sure everyone’s out of the parking lot before Estefan’s bus hits the road.

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Mrs. Bootleg had called and suggested Italian take-out for dinner. For those of you who don’t know, the kitchen is the other room in the house that new parents have no use for, anymore.

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Swear to God, before I die, I hope one day I’ll see at least one clean tow truck cab interior and one baby pigeon. I’m convinced neither exists.

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Ever wonder why you don’t see three grown men in the cramped cab of a truck? It was like a game of Twister, as we spent 20 minutes trying not to inadvertently touch each other.

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Anyways, Aiken is overwhelmed by the entire hullabaloo and claims that he’s still a “skinny little dork”. Y’know, that self-effacing description alone might allow him to crack the top 30 of next year’s IWC 100. He could be Top 10 material if only we could do something about that “girls like him” thing.

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We planned to drop Baby Bootleg off with one of the wife’s girlfriends, but not before Mrs. Bootleg discovered that she forgot his (and I can’t believe I’m typing this) “bouncy chair”. I’m already dreading the moment when I have to use “sippy cup” in a sentence. Anyways, we just left the kid in his car seat, took him to the porch, rang their doorbell and broke out.

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Well, she must’ve dropped something on the floor of her car, because she promptly bent over like Beecher at a Chris Keller convention.

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As for dinner”¦we blew our gift card out of the water and I had to pony up an additional $75 to supplement our steak sustenance. It was all worth it though, as the meal kicked eight kinds of ass. In fact, I can honestly say that I haven’t had cow that good since my first girlfriend.

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Officially, the show has been put on “hiatus”, but that’s just the TV equivalent for “we need some time apart” or “it’s not you, it’s me” or “I’m lesbian now” or a dozen other lines I’ve heard that make it seem like there’s a chance for reconciliation, when in actuality”¦ahem, I digress.

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I remember seeing the (What’s Happening) episode in the ’80s and being very confused. I mean, to this day, I still don’t know if the Black guy in the band was a Doobie by birth, adopted like Arnold and Willis Jackson, or a flamboyant freed slave living on the plantation like Meshach Taylor on Designing Women.

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Now, here’s what I don’t understand: Foxy was robbed of a $250,000 earring and her Louis Vuitton bag”¦but the tray of stuffed mushrooms she was serving to the guests was left untouched. And I’ll be damned if Foxy Brown is walking around with a quarter of a million dollars in her earlobe.

The only unemployed women with that much (eventual) disposable income have to be raped by Kobe Bryant first.

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At least. Now, I don’t want to concern anyone, but I’m pretty sure that white girls rapping is the heretofore unknown Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse.

It’s in Revelations, people!

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15 years ago, I’m thinking someone would’ve won a few bar bets by putting money on the dog being the only member of The British Bulldogs who’d still be alive and walking today.

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Even without the eventual emergency room visits, it’s sure to be entertaining, if nothing else. Entertaining enough for a day-by-day IP diary of my real life misadventures?

Please. We know how those turn out, don’t we?

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Ah, but beware, Dave”¦the white man’s fickle favor can crumble like a cracker if you’re not careful. Chris Rock crossed over with some HBO specials and a late-night cable talk show in the mid-90s. Before you knew it, “the big piece of chicken” and “tossing your salad” became staples of suburban sentence structure. Then, along came Pootie Tang.

Before that, Eddie Murphy was arguably the top box office draw of the ’80s and single-handedly juxtaposed names like Judge Reinhold and Dan Akroyd with the phrase “blockbuster”. Not to be confused with the Blockbuster that Reinhold is known for today. And, in a related note, Akroyd quit last week and accepted a similar position with Hollywood Video.

Anyway, my point is that the lifespan of the Black comedian in the White community is about two to five years. Sure, there’ll be the occasional outlier like Bill Cosby, but if I can ditch the whole “Bootleg” persona and be serious for a minute”¦

Wait a minute”¦

“Crumble like a cracker”¦” Hey, I just got that!

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Her inexplicable image as a sexpot is fast approaching the unconvincing levels of “Mona” from Who’s The Boss? and “Blanche” from The Golden Girls. Thankfully, Hollywood has seen the light and begun phasing out the middle-aged MILFs, before their crow’s feet and false teeth get one more minute of airtime than they deserve.

Sources call it “The Rene Russo Rule”.

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See, kids, in that world, “dope” means “good” and “smack” is only used before “”¦down my bitch”. And why’s that”¦?

Right”¦because she had it coming.

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nicksalemi: Destro could have been Black, too. He was very James Earl Jones-ish.
ajcameron13: I dunno…that shiny silver mask woulda been hell for his razor bumps.
nicksalemi: holy shit!
nicksalemi: call Hasbro right now

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For the first few hours, B.I.G.’s bullet wounds were written off as “nooks and crannies””¦like those commonly found in a Thomas’ English Muffin. It didn’t help that the brutha was literally bleeding butter, either.

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And, who amongst us doesn’t have sweet memories of their Dads trying to defeat Donkey Kong or their Moms maneuvering Millipede’s track ball. I tells ya”¦those things f*cked up more fingertips than a dozen diabetics.

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Our house had turned into that contagious coastal community in Outbreak. All that was missing was one of those cataclysmic concussion bombs and a cameo by Patrick Dempsey. But, since Domino’s delivery doesn’t begin until the sun is actually up, I’d have to wait a few hours before I could ask him when the Loverboy Special Edition DVD would be released.

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Now, I’ve gotta say that I’m more than a little offended here. In recent years, “urban” has become synonymous with “Black”. I mean, are the suits at Britney’s label really telling us that Nelly is too Black for anyone? What other bruthas made Britney’s (too) “blacklist”? Tony Gwynn? The “banana in the tailpipe” guy from Beverly Hills Cop? Hell, me?

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Oh, and what’s with all this “White girl booty” negativity? Damn it, Jessica”¦the mass media has spent a generation telling your people that ethnic asses are fat and nasty. And, now you’re saying they’re not? I’m only going to say this once: select a steady stream of self-loathing and stick with it.

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Has there ever been anyone as smokin’ hot as Shannon Elizabeth who has so completely failed to realize her potential? American Pie, Scary Movie”¦and oblivion? This is pretty much Natasha Henstridge territory without the inherent credibility of Species, Species II and Species III.

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Brought to you by the good people at Gatorade, who recently created a commercial “thanking” Mia Hamm for her impact on the sports world. Apparently, she got 12-year-old girls to play soccer and freed them from the shackles of their Easy Bake Ovens. Hey, when’s that WUSA season start?

Thanks, beautiful.

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Seriously, this whole pit bull phenomenon is just another “Black Thing”, that, I’ll admit, I just don’t get. As of now, it joins crunk music, Stephen A. Smith and obscure, yet edible pig parts on the short list. And white folk, you have your own explaining to do. You can start with cargo shorts, carrot-raisin salad and those commercials for Mentos.

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See”¦you’re either eating a sandwich or you’re not. You’re either reading a book or you’re not. In fact, there is probably not another activity in existence that’s farther away from having sex”¦than not having sex.

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First off, when did Steve Harvey become a beacon for the Black Community? If thick lips and a $3,000/day clothing allowance were the only criteria, then couldn’t we get Julia Roberts to lead us?

This brutha should be grateful that his little-watched WB talent show is still on the air and the only thing keeping any PAX programming from reaching 113th place in the Nielsens.

As for Michael Jackson”¦you can’t break out the Blackness unless you wear it year-round. When you treat your identity like your best set of church clothes (worn only on Easter, Christmas and court dates)”¦well, let’s just say you won’t be inappropriately touching that little boy called “credibility” anytime soon.

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Receptionist: “Is Jalen on any current medications?”

Me: “Uhh, I’m not really”¦Wait, I think he’s taking something”¦for something.”

Receptionist: “Are you sure you’re his father?”

Me: (laughter)

Receptionist: “”¦”

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Personally, I’d like to know who green lit this project in the first place. An HBO movie starring Andre 3000 and Big Boi? Can we assume that The Wire gave their written approval for not one, but two Black actors to appear on HBO programming other than their show?

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Besides”¦let’s be honest here. Salt-N-Pepa’s lives can be summed up thusly: had some hits in the ’80s, before finally making a name for themselves in 1993 and, almost immediately, fading into oblivion.

That’s not a sitcom”¦that’s the Lenny Dykstra Story.

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I sat Jalen on the couch, turned to pull a diaper out of his bag”¦when I heard a sound. It was an odd noise”¦like someone dropping a baby off of a couch and into a coffee table.

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I have no build to speak of, mind you, but for the last four years I’ve done my best to visit the gym semi-regularly. There aren’t any Hulk Hogan hopes for me, though, as I go primarily to cancel out the crap that I graze on throughout the workday. See, in my office, Famous Amos and The Frito Bandito have long since supplanted me as the corporate minority mascot.

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Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a Hispanic chick (in San Diego?!) with an obvious boob job (in California?!) just falling out of her top.

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At this point, I’m half-past “Patrick Ewing, triple overtime” in the drenched-with-sweat department and closing in fast on “Nick Salemi, pretty much anytime”.

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According to white folk, (Berry’s win) was the first time an undeserving performer ever took home an Oscar or used their acceptance speech as a soapbox. Black people were up in arms at all the pretend racism and Halle’s several scenes of pretend soft-serve swirl with Billy Bob Thornton.

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And yet, surprisingly, the good people of P.E.T.A. had nothing to say about the death of “Tyrell”, who was the housebroken buffalo hit by a car and killed sometime in the second act. Has anyone caught the Director’s Cut where Halle breaks open the boy’s belly and crawls inside for warmth until help arrives?

And, I thought these things smelled bad”¦on the outside!

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The conservative viewers will support me because I managed to fall into fatherhood on the farcical field of “family values”. While the liberal viewers were born to believe that backing the brutha will help them feel better about themselves.

In fact”¦with enough positive coverage and a Q-Rating that naturally connects with both Kaitlin and Q’ueeleesha, wouldn’t it be funny if I ran for President?

Of course, I’ll have to wait anywhere from 25 to 50 years”¦depending on how far Chris Rock and Head of State set the movement back. Proof that even Nate Dogg can’t save everything.

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Ah, nothing says holly and/or jolly better than a screaming Black child being held down by a jackbooted, bearded white man. I actually think this might’ve been a deleted scene in that 25th Anniversary Roots DVD that dropped a few years back.

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Personally, I voted”¦but, far be it for me to lay the guilt trip on those who didn’t. Just remember”¦it wasn’t too long ago when a certain candidate and his supporters got a little too full of themselves. They were so certain of victory that everyone thought the election was in the bag and their vote wouldn’t matter. And, I don’t think I have to tell you how the Martin Prince Presidency turned out?

Christ, they’ve all been in the fourth grade for fifteen years.

===

Anyways, it gets better, as we’re told that Kim’s lyrics are being analyzed as “literary text” in this (Syracuse University) class. And, I can tell y’all right now, even if the bookstore was offering full-price buyback, I’d never resell a book with words like:

I used to be scared of the dick/Now I throw lips to the shit”¦
Take it in the butt/Yeah, yeaahh whuuut”¦, “Big Momma Thang”, 1996

Hotter than a Pop Tart fresh out of the toaster
N!ggaz do anything for a Lil’ Kim poster, “How Many Licks”, 2000

You know the Queen show love when I’m up in the club
I like to play with my coochie when I’m up in the tub, “Hold It Now”, 2003

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Hey, quick question about Dulles Airport, where I flew into”¦is there some sort of labor exchange program with the nation of Somalia? Are their airports filled with overweight and unpleasant Americans in sensible shoes and unsheathed security wands?

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Hmm, handsome compensation, for pretty much next to nothing.

Expect a class action suit, on the grounds of ‘gimmick infringement’, from the last four games the Yankees played, the last two years of Ronald Reagan’s presidency and Matthew Michael.

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Wow”¦all that Cybertron circuitry and cutting edge Transformer technology and his power is the human fleshling equivalent of getting shampoo in your eye. And we wonder how the Autobots always won”¦as well as where the hell Optimus Prime’s trailer went when he transformed.

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The long and the short of it is that (Roy) Jones was pissed at the Puerco Rican for a throwaway lyric that supposedly referenced Jones’ recent struggles in the ring.

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The clubs will feature entertainers of all races and national origins and will feature hip hop and R&B music.

Ummm, yeah. And, while it’s not included in the press release, I can only assume that other “innovative, never before seen” strip club features for Luke’s Cabaret include urinals filled with ice, dancers with freakishly large tattoos in places that just seem “off” (ribcage, shins, etc.) and those “3 for $30” specials that are never as good as the 1 for $20 regular dance.

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Sarah Jessica Parker has signed on for The Gap’s new winter ad campaign called “How Do You Share It?” The gist of it is that Parker will have a series of completely contrived encounters with several singers on the streets of New York. Included among the featured artists are Mary J. Blige, JC Chasez and Kelis.

Man, way to hammer home the long-term staying power of The Gap brand, guys. And, how do the producers know which White Castle restaurant Kelis will be working at on the first day of filming? Somebody check the milkshake machine.

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Eh”¦when I was a kid, schools practiced diversity the old fashioned way: it was forced on them. Busloads of Black kids were brought into the finest neighborhoods and allowed to experience all the accoutrements (like thesauruses) of suburban schools.

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I was alternately sweating like a pig and shivering like a young, moist Dudley in that “very special episode” of Diff’rent Strokes where he gets molested.

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So”¦it tastes like weed, but you can’t get high from it. Basically, it’s the confectionery counterpart to non-alcoholic beer or daytime non-drowsy formula Thera-Flu. Do any of you know anyone who takes a toke because it tastes great?

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It shouldn’t be all that hard of a sell considering his 10 Grammy nominations and Kanye’s undying love for the sound of his own voice. And, if he does decide to appear, can someone”¦anyone ask him how a song with this line could be up for an award in anything:

” The way Kathie Lee needed Regis that’s the way y’all need Jesus”

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With all this lecherous lusting over barely legal ladies you’d think that this was a Friday movies column. Y’all think I could bust out my own Tits List? I promise to carry over the “No Negroes Need Apply” rule that is standard on other sites.

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Does that stocking say “MAMMY”?

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Nick: We’ve officially outdone your people. Jumping onstage and shooting the band? At least at rap concerts, just the crowd gets shot. Yikes.

Aaron: Man, that was crazy. And you KNOW that if it was a rap concert, cats would be lining up to say “whaddaya expect…it’s a rap concert and nothing but criminals and Nick Salemi go to those, anyway.”

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And what Black woman can’t relate to on-again/off-again romances of a chubby white chick? Christ, I could save myself the $14.99 and just tell her about the women I dated during my first two years in college.

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Mrs. Bootleg’s Quote of the Week Year

“I need some lanolin on these nipples.” – Tuesday, April 13.

Kill me now.

General Haberdashery

One man’s ballot for the 2004 IP Music Staffer of the Year Award, beginning with the most deserving:

Mathan Erhardt spent all year working with two separate deadlines, then took on the TV beat, too. Always insightful, his column intertwines music and it’s role in shaping the man that Math has become.

Jeff Fernandez (and everyone else) is tied for second. That’s right”¦everyone gets a trophy day, baby. Jeff is guaranteed to make you laugh at something ridiculous from the previous week’s music news. And, no one mixes self-deprecation and sombreros any better.

Gloomchen might make you think”¦or make you laugh”¦or make you say, “Hey, that’s my life she’s talking about!” Plus, by ovarian default, she’s the most popular person on our internal staff.

J.A.M = the fourth in the line of short-lived novelty writing nicknames for a trio of Inside Pulse and 411 writers.

J is for Movie Joe Reid. He’s become quite the fixture in this here column and The Bootleg is proud to endorse his Year-End column. He hands out awards for Best Picture”¦tag teams with Mel Gibson vs. The Jews”¦grudgingly gives it up for Daryl Hannah”¦and likens me to a former Billy Crystal-movie co-star. And, no it’s not Gheorge Muresan guy. Oh, wait”¦

A is for me.

M is for TV Mathan. Simon Adebisi teaches Math about the spirit of Christmas. Oh, and in Las Vegas You Got Served is what passes for quality Kwanzaa programming.

Happy New Year from all of us at Inside Pulse! Get at me on AOL or Yahoo IM: ajcameron13