“Wait a minute. You really are black? I thought it was just a gimmick, like Rosie O’ Donnell being a woman or the Bush presidency.”
-IP’s own Mike Lawrence, after seeing last week’s pic of Baby Bootleg and me. And if you get half the references in my column, you’d better be the reading his“¦
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Adventures in Cell Phone Conversations
Nick: Hey, how come Jose Canseco looks nothing like El Duque (since they’re both from Cuba)?
Aaron: It’s because, growing up, Canseco was the “house Cuban”, while El Duque was the “field Cuban”.
Note: Mrs. Bootleg told me that only “Black people and Nick would get that joke”. Prove her wrong, children. Prove her wrong. Or just ask Mathan for clarification.
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Welcome back to The Bootleg. Before we begin, proper, I wanted to say thank you to everyone who sent in an email or an IM in response to last week’s column. I haven’t gotten back to everyone, yet, but the wife and I appreciate your thoughts and condolences, as well as the love y’all showed for The Bootleg’s 2nd Birfday.
Amazingly, with everything that’s gone on recently, I’ve forgotten to wish everyone a Happy Black History Month! Man, Faarooq would kick me right out of the The Nation, if he ever found out.
Back in elementary school, February meant cardboard cutouts of Martin Luther King and Harriet Tubman stapled over the cardboard snowflakes representing January, in our homeroom classes. 28 days later, those images would be superceded by smiling leprechauns and their Lucky Charms of March.
Looking back, it always felt like some sort of forced feel-good gala that recycled the same celebrations of the the salty snack and the Underground Railroad track.
All of this leads up to an invitation that I found in my email at work yesterday:
Please join us for the Fourth Annual (Unnamed Defense Contractor) Black History Month Potluck and Spiritual Celebration!
And, I’m sure the organizers’ placement of the hot dogs ahead of God was unintentionally sacrilicious.
So, you’d think these things would actually get serious about self-awareness as we all ascended into adulthood. Well, then you must not have attended last year’s B.H.M.P. and S.C.
The event began with a prayer. A prayer where everyone holds hands”¦and I was between Anthony and Clarence. (Get enough bruthas in a room and there’s sure to be a “Clarence”, “Otis” or “Cleophus”) Now, I’m as liberal and freethinking as anyone else from California, but ewwwwww”¦
From there, the food was fantastic. And, in a surprising bit of authenticity, after the meal, all the Black folk spent 45 minutes trying to divide up the check and ended up tipping 2%”¦even though it was potluck.
Finally, there was a Black History trivia game. And, not the kind where every answer was “Bill Cosby” or “collard greens”, either. I’m talkin’ sh*t so obscure, it makes my column look easier to process than Picture Pages. (Oh, fine”¦here’s the link.) We all felt like a sea of Booker T’s on The Weakest Link, until the exasperated hostess asked:
“Who won the American League MVP Award in 1990?”
Finally, a question that I knew the answer to. Not only that, but an answer that I could pronounce with pride”¦ooh, and since I was correct, it came with a prize! A prize that would surely symbolize the centuries of struggle that united the Black man, hand-to-hand (trust me, I know) in our ongoing quest to”¦
Hey, a picture frame. And, a broken picture frame, to boot. Cheap ass nickel-and-dime n*ggas.
Your boredom is the cancer and The Goodness is the”¦ wait, what cures cancer?
“I Thought You Were Black, but now I Have to Question That.”
In honor of his first-ever Grammy nomination, rapid-fire rapper Twista has teamed with New Millennium Wheels to produce”¦”The Timekeeper Rim Series”. We’re told that they’re the “world’s first wheels to display analog time as the vehicle is in motion”.
Well, I think it’s safe to say that, finally, Black Pride has passed me by.
Time on your tires? And, could you imagine the size of that Swatch guard? Look, even if I didn’t drive a four-door Saturn sedan, I’d still tell you that I don’t get this rims thang. That’s because there’s a dirty little secret that Xzibit and them Pimp My Ride guys won’t reveal: cars continuously depreciate and the ones that don’t, get stolen.
These people are pouring tens of thousands of dollars into an asset that, in a few years, could easily be burned out and broken down by the side of the road with a “for sale” sign swinging from the back. Not surprisingly, the same could be said about Lil’ Kim.
What?
Oh, it’s been two years, who amongst you didn’t see that one coming? Just be thankful I left the joke about her “spacious interior” on the shelf. Whoops.
One of These Things is not Like the Other
After successfully cornering the unemployed 18-34 African-American market, Nas is turning his attention to the same range of white man. Nas is teaming up with Guitar Center for a promotional contest that I desperately want to believe Nas didn’t come up with the name for.
“Get Down with Nas” is a challenge for Guitar Center customers to best market the so-so sounds of Street’s Disciple, the rapper’s recently released double disc. Hold on a second”¦we’re letting a mostly Caucasian clientele call the shots for a man who is the essence of Hip Hop?
I think it’s safe to say that it’s not the copies of Nas’ CD that’ll be selling out. These are our heroes, indeed.
Besides, whatever happened to the concept of fair exchange? If the white man gets to market a Black man’s product, then I demand equal time to promote their products. You don’t think I can take Splenda to the streets and Hamburger Helper to my peeps? I don’t even know why they call this stuff Hamburger Helper.
I’m told it does just fine by itself.
I Got The Magic, uh, “Split”?
Fresh off his comedic cameo from last week’s Simpsons, 50 Cent is back to building on the buzz for his sophomoric sophomore Massacre LP. The latest from 50 is an X-rated video for the insufferable single Disco Inferno.
The press release promises “naked women, kissing and groping each other”, so think of this video as something you’d only find on either “50 Cent meets Saturday night Cinemax””¦or TRL. Speaking of which, I’m reminded of a conversation I recently had with a longtime Friend of the Bootleg.
He lamented the recent pop culture confluence of all these women coming out as lesbians”¦simply because they say they are. I think he’ll agree, though”¦our friends at Showtime say it better.
And, besides, I”¦wait a tic. Back to the link”¦is that Jennifer Beals from Flashdance? As a 40-year-old lesbian? Well, I’ll stop short of calling it a true casting catastrophe, as the current leader in the clubhouse is still the chick that played Billy Madison’s b*tch in role of Sonya Blade.
Money, It’s Gotta Be the Shoes
Mötley Crüe bassist Nikki Sixx won a recent court decision against Vans Incorporated. Sixx accused the company of using his image without his permission in the skate magazine Thrasher.
A jury awarded Sixx more than half a million dollars in damages, which should be the final nail in the sole for Vans”¦a company that, I believe, should’ve sold its last shoe in 1992. Did they not cover this brand during I Love the ’80s? Come on”¦when Mo Rocca thinks he’s Mo Betta than something, it’s time to reassess your sales pitch.
And, while I never had much of a need for a skating shoe, I join y’all in your confusion over the of Funkmaster Flex Lugz Driving Shoe. Y’know”¦their commercials run on WWE Raw. Your girl’s not reading, you don’t have to pretend you don’t watch.
And, who thought an endorsement by the black and bald Droopy the Dog was a good thing?
Hello all you happy Negroes.
Sometimes the News Just Writes Itself
All across the country, the standards of higher education are eroding. Last fall, the sacrosanct sect at Syracuse University was shattered when Lil’ Kim’s (yes, again) laughable lyrics were incorporated into an actual class.
Now, news breaks that last month, rapper Lil’ Wayne began taking classes at the University of Houston. Y’all know the guy”¦five foot three inch midget in that Destiny’s Child video getting all the airplay right now.
Still don’t know him?
Here’s a picture. Wayne was also the Hot Boy who dropped this all-time awful verse:
“It’s Young Carter
f*ck wit’ me and I fix mo’ wigs than a beauty parlor
And due to all the controversy that circles my clique
I’m liable to click out at any time and murder a bitch
I blaze block flows at ‘cha dome Paco
I let one shot go and watch hot sauce leak out ‘cho taco
And y’all can trust my niggaz – while I’m here, I’m a living legacy
And I gotta eat like a bitch when in pregnancy, definitely”
Can we assume that the University of Houston is down with O.P.P. G.E.D.?
Hey, humor me for a second on this one”¦here’s the same picture of Lil’ Wayne, again. And, here’s a separated at birth, if I ever saw one.
Nick’a Please
conceptualized by Nick Salemi
Jay Z vs. The Game
Hip Hop has been starving for a battle for quite some time. It’s the nature of the business. Rap hasn’t seen a serious one since Jay Z vs. Nas in 2001-02. (Sorry, Eminem vs. Benzino and 50 Cent vs. Ja Rule don’t count) However, I find it odd that Jay Z’s first major act as the new CEO of Def Jam is to go on the radio and drop a freestyle indirectly dissing Aftermath’s Dr. Dre protégé, The Game.
Way to alienate an entire roster of talent, Jay. He followed that up by saying:
“It ain’t about nobody, it’s about the summer.”
I’ve never been a fan of the diss track about “nobody in particular”. My personal favorite example of this was in the late 90s when rappers would talk about “cats in shiny suits”, etc., clearly referencing Diddy and Mase. But when put on the spot in a magazine interview or on TV or radio they would say, “Naw, yo, I ain’t speakin about no one”.
Who the hell else was wearing shiny suits besides them? Were there underground cats wearing shiny suits? Up and coming shiny suit battle rappers? You can’t call out Puffy and Mase?! Say what you want about Hit Em Up, but Pac didn’t mince words.
I guess that’s where we’re at again. The Game made the first blunder with his line in Westside Story. I’m not sure that the fact that he put his apology on wax and then said it was about Ja Rule is the lamest thing happening here. I think the fact that Jay was personally offended by it and the fact that people give him credit for popularizing button ups and Maybachs might trump the Ja Rule comment for overall patheticness.
Either way, Jay Z fired back by making a diss track where he says the word “game” four times but said, “it ain’t about no one.” Everyone knows that’s bullsh*t, as he’s not even trying to be subliminal.
Fortunately for The Game, he had already sold a million albums when this happened and has Dr. Dre and G Unit behind him, so an industry smothering like LL did to Canibus in ’98 probably isn’t in the cards for right now. Please guys, just make a couple entertaining mixtape tracks and move on.
But, enough with the diss tracks aimed at mystery rappers.
And, a long overdue shout out to friend of the Bootleg / Nicka Please , Tone E. Atlas (aka the world’s strongest producer), from the city that never sleeps. Check out his remix of Nas’ I Am.
Peace.
Get at me at nicksalemi@yahoo.com
General Haberdashery-Help Wanted Edition
Inside Pulse is hiring!
Even though The Bootleg is two years old, I’ve actually been writing for Widro since December 2002. He brought me on to cover rap music reviews with”¦Jason Jako.
A few months later, I defeated Adam Cankaya in a loser leaves town match for the Friday News gig and the rest is history”¦and obscurity. My point is that when these new guys are hired, it’ll be the old guard that’s most vulnerable.
For example, take Mike Eagle. He filled in for Fernandez this week, but had Jeff so shook, that our Mexican Messiah had to check in from Amsterdam to make sure Mike hadn’t burned the place down. In case you missed it, there’s a drugs and prostitute-tinged tale at the end of Mike’s column, with a cliffhanger to boot!
Gloomchen ain’t goin’ nowhere. One, she’s a woman. And, that’s pretty much all the justification she needs. This week, she relates her hate for country music, which is reason #2 why I like her. (Reason #1: she’s a woman)
Mathan covers singing primates, one-eyed musical acts and, in an all-time old-school trifecta, he brings Ceephus n’ Reesie, Calvin from fast food commercials and David Bowie together under one fictional flag. His job’s safe for another week.
Gordi is probably safe for another week. Remember that WWE pay-per-view from a few years ago when The Kat took her top off? Well, Gordi’s got some never-before-seen images”¦pertaining mostly to her ex-husband and his choice of entrance music. Swerve!
The Most Hated Review in my Net Writing History. Take that Jay-Z’s Black Album!
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. Joe’s consecutive columns streak ends at”¦five. He took this week off to prepare for 411’s Academy Awards Extravaganza Special.
Find out answers to questions like: “Will the Oscar trophy’s gold-plated pecs make 411’s Tit List?” and “Where will sultry Cicely Tyson rank on the site’s list of Hot Women that They, And Only They Think Are Hot?”
In the meantime, the above is the first Movie Guy link from a Google search of “Joe Reid” (from 12/20/04).
If you’re looking for original Joe Reid linkage, I found this“¦and this. Thank God for Google.
A is for me.
M is for TV Mathan. He remembers Ed, Ossie Davis and Kurtis Blow. There’s also a guest appearance from yours truly, as I answer, once and for all, the question of whom I’d rather live with: Mr. Drummond from Diff’rent Strokes or Mr. & Mrs. Papadapoulis from Webster.
(Hint: My answer revolves around a talking car from the 1980s”¦)
Junk Mail
Note to self”¦don’t ever write two columns in the same week, in which one bashes critically-acclaimed rapper Nas and the other questions the impenetrable integrity of Pete Rose. For a change, I’ll stay on the subject of music for this section:
Typical. That Nas review is so typical of your Jay-Z d*ck riding bias. Keep listening the clown that Nas killed three years ago and leave the real hip hop to those of us who know greatness”¦E.E.
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It takes you two years to review Street’s Disciple and you give it a 6.5?!? Guess you’ve never heard of the phrase better with age. But, then again, with all them little f*ggoty phrases and six-syllable words you put into a music review, I’m not surprised that you’d rather read yourself than listen to the damn album”¦.Unsigned.
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Whatever credibility you had with me is now gone. From now on it’s just The Bootleg, where you don’t take yourself too seriously and leave the Hip Hop to Nick, who knows what he’s talking about”¦Unsigned
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Listen to the album again. Then listen to it again until you get it right. 6.5 is ass and you know it. You’ve been hating on Nas for weeks in the bootleg and now you finally got a chance to sh*t on him in the most f*cked-up review I’ve ever read. Nice job”¦.J.G.
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F*ck you, Nas is ill”¦Unsigned
Yes, that’s all he (or she?) wrote. Wow. And not one piece of positive feedback to balance out the bile. Hey, we can agree to disagree, kids”¦and speaking of which, check back next week to see what I give the Jay-Z/Linkin Park collabo Collision Course.
Better than Nas? I’m not telling!
Life With the Bootleg Family
Valentine’s Day.
The Cam Fam agreed to keep it low key this year, but even after all these years together, there’s still something that can be learned.
Lesson #1: If you’re gonna buy flowers for your girl, try to find a flower shop that’s not next to the cereal aisle.
Supermarket plant life is best left to their selection of produce and the little plastic bags that never open up on the first end you try. Roses? Not so much. But, at 5:30 PM this past Monday, a bunch of beat up and broken down men stood in line (or “on” line, if you’re closer to the Atlantic than the Pacific) for the finest flowers Vons had to offer.
And, by “finest”, of course I mean “$9.99 a dozen”.
After years of begging for forgiveness, believe you me, I know how to pick a rose. Nice, tight petals that have not yet bloomed”¦firm stem”¦and, after purchase, you cut the bottoms at a 45-degree angle to ensure proper hydration.
Twelve hours later, I discovered the roses had blossomed and begun to wilt. A feat of rapid aging that hasn’t been seen since the ill fated Oz plot involving pills that”¦well, pills that aged you. On a related note, can someone tell me why I loved that show, again?
Lesson #2: If you’re gonna buy child’s Valentine’s cards, don’t wait until February 13.
So, Kid Cameron goes to day care with five or six other lil’ bastards.
The celebrate each other’s birthdays, play games together and, apparently, exchange Valentines. So, there we were”¦at our local Target”¦trying desperately to find one of those boxes of cards that would allow our 12-month-old son to participate in a day that he’ll never remember.
“These are the only ones they have left.”, said Mrs. Bootleg.
Oh, hell no. Hell no! There are not enough italics on Planet HTML Formatting to possibly register my rage. My child, my son, would not be buying Bratz valentines to give to anybody! Had The Bootlegs given birth to Bobby Hill?
I solidified my stance as we left Target with a box of Bratz valentines in tow. (Shaddap, at least I didn’t pay for ’em.) Still, I convinced the wife to see if the supermarket had anything else to hand out to the kids for February 14th. At this point, I would’ve even forced open the factory seal on my 1991 Upper Deck baseball card collection and handed those out to the children.
Hey, do you know of a better way to unload 200 Todd Van Poppels?
In no time at all, we found a set of cards from a cartoon called Mucha Lucha. They appear to be Mexican wrestlers of some kind, with a surprisingly drawn-to-scale caricature of Rey Misterio featured prominently on the package.
Or it could’ve been Nick Salemi. It’s so hard to tell those lil’ fellas apart with their masks.
Pitchers and catchers report! Let us celebrate this new arrangement with the adding of chocolate to milk. Get at me on AOL or Yahoo IM: ajcameron13
