But, Before We Begin…
An IP writer in our Super Secret Staff Forum posted the following link this week. The subject was “F*cking Funniest Thing I’ve Ever Seen!” (All Caps, Six Exclamation Points)
At least now I have an answer for the day my son asks, “When did pop culture pass you by?”
Adventures in Cell Phone Conversations
Nick: I know about being a minority. I’m the only white guy in my (class project) group.
Aaron: I guess that’s a lot like when Owen Hart joined The Nation back in 1998.
Welcome back to The Bootleg. We’re gonna change things around this week as Bootleg correspondent, Nick Salemi was on hand at the Congressional Hearings on steroid abuse in baseball, yesterday and filed this report:
The sad saga of Aaron Cameron’s favorite baseball player as a child (after Rickey Henderson) continues. After releasing the highly acclaimed graphic novel comic book Juiced, Jose Canseco has now been asked to appear before Congress, along with other current players, ex-players and MLB officials to testify on the issue of steroids.
The controversy of Canseco’s comic book started with the amount of times he referenced his 40-40 season. Example: “When McGwire broke the Home Run record, that was sort of like my 40-40 year”.
Canseco, through his lawyers at the Law Offices of Steinbach and Weiss, has asked for immunity. Congress has denied that request and asked that he please wear a T-shirt under his regular shirt at the hearing.
The good news however, is that his cheesy mustache has returned after nearly 20 years.
Strangely enough, there’s no word on why you can no longer pay $1,500 to spend the day with him in an unprecedented deal that used to be offered on his website. Jose is also quiet on the amount his brother Ozzie got for selling his World Series ring on eBay.
Estimates at this point are not enough to pay off his bar tab.
Please look at his website, folks…specifically, his list of appearances:
March 16: Wolf Blitzer
March 17: Testifying at Congress
Testifying “AT” Congress? Wow. Did he put that in himself?
Hard to believe that there’s nothing listed after yesterday. I’m sure the Webmaster hasn’t had a chance to post:
March 20th: Working in the loading dock area of the Mattress King.
Much like he hasn’t had time to update the “Fitness and Active” section, that consists of a photo of Jose wearing a 1975 NWA championship belt.
Whatever happened with his “See you in the movies” comment after getting cut from the Dodgers’ spring training squad? Aaron Cameron swears that he has an uncredited role as an extra in the upcoming CSI: Oakland where they try to piece together when this guy’s career died.
It’s too bad that the founding member of the 40-40 Club probably can’t even get a job bouncing at the 40-40 Club in New York City.
Unlike Mark McGwire…The Goodness Has Nothing To Hide!
Watch Me Blow My Lines
From the network that brought you Soul Food, Queer as Folk and other little-watched liberal programming aimed at the last two blue states in the Union, comes Getting Unstuck. Showtime has tabbed female rapper/forehead, Eve, to star in the true story of Merle Soden, an HIV-positive lesbian TV producer.
Soden overcame abuse as a child, drugs, homelessness and sharing a name with Dr. Zaius from the original Planet of the Apes. In fact, she worked her way into the TV industry and made it all the way to producer of…The Queen Latifah Show. Coincidence? Sure, whatever.
Anyways, the same production company that produces Eve’s self-titled UPN sitcom is spearheading this cable movie. And, whom else would you entrust such serious subject matter with?
In fact, why not just move the movie to UPN’s array of urban affiliates? Sure, you’d lose a little in prestige, but you’d almost certainly gain Holly Robinson Peete! I only hope she’s free.
High in Sodium…Low in Credibility!
Y’all remember Making the Band 2, right? P. Diddy and MTV teamed up to set back Black culture by a couple of centuries with the inexplicably popular adventures of aspiring African-American artists. Well, at the end of that show’s run, Diddy disbanded the group and everyone went their separate ways.
Ah, but now it looks like someone was hitting the ol’ snooze bar thang with his fifteen minutes of fame! Chopper (a/k/a “Young City”) has signed an exclusive marketing deal for his image and likeness to appear on Rap Snacks’ Pork Skins and Cracklins.
I am not making this up. Don’t believe me…? See for yourself.
And, when you’re lending your name to a bag of chips with flavors like “Bar-B-Quin w/Honey” and “Sour Cream & Extra Cheddar”…well, I hear that Hammerman is calling these guys sell outs.
I mean, who’d have thought that the former cast of The Klan’s Kitchen Krew, including Uncle Ben, the Cream of Wheat Man and Cicely Tyson would look like the (Black) Power of Product Placement, by comparison?
Michael Jackson is Storm Shadow
Those of you who can’t get tickets to Wrestlemania 21, but still plan to be in the southern California area, are in luck. The fan club of alleged molester Michael Jackson is planning a rally in Santa Maria over the first weekend in April.
Then, on Monday, April 4, it’s expected that hundreds of his supporters will march to the courthouse, in unison, while wearing replicas of Jacko’s “synonymous with innocence” white outfit/facemask ensemble. Innocent? Aren’t those the official clothes of G.I. Joe foils, Cobra (a ruthless terrorist organization determined to rule the world)?
Well, maybe not the entire organization, but white-on-white is the authentic throwback uniform of Storm Shadow, the greatest cartoon villain of them all! One quick read of his biography will show you…wait a minute.
That link can’t be right.
Storm Shadow is really “Tommy from San Francisco”? That’s not the name of a warrior. That’s the guy who sells you a sourdough bread bowl of clam chowder at Pier 39.
Which reminds me…can anyone tell me if there’s a bread bowl protocol of some kind? On the one hand, once you finish the soup, throwing away the bread bowl seems like such a waste. On the other hand, there’s really no way to eat the bowl without looking like a stray dog workin’ on a rawhide bone.
The Joke That Might Get Me Fired
The New York Daily News is reporting that Lil’ Jon nearly caused a riot during a performance down in Panama City Beach last week. Officials believe that the trouble began when Jon asked all the women in the audience to flash their breasts.
Hey, you might call it drunken misogyny, but to me it’s just public mammography, people.
Anyways, the crowd grew increasingly rowdier as the evening wore on, with several women responding to comments both lewd and crude (i.e. “Show us your boobs!”) with snappy zingers like, “Not now!” Apparently one of the offended ovarian occupants came to the Lil’ Jon concert for the class n’ culture, because she called 911 to report the dastardly doings.
I mean, how does a woman willingly walk into a situation where she knows sh*t will go down and then insists on the ignorance defense when said sh*t goes down? I guess she was trained by the best.
(And, for the three of you who still don’t get it.)
Sometimes The News Just Writes Itself
Reebok’s new 50 Cent ad campaign has been at the center of controversy over in the United Kingdom. In one TV spot, 50 counts to nine…representing the number of times he was shot in the infamous incident from back in 2000. The print ads include images of Fiddy along with a copy of his fingerprint records.
Each of the ads features the Reebok/50 Cent slogan: “I Am What I Am”. Meanwhile, the U.K. has called the spots “irresponsible and despicable”, while…hold on.
I Am What I Am?
For God’s sake, they’re sampling Popeye the Sailor Man?
Now, notwithstanding the chicken n’ biscuits restaurant chain of the same name, has the Popeye character even been relevant since Robin Williams killed it dead in the 1980 live-action movie? And, yet still you people continue to support Mork. Have you forgotten Cadillac Man? What about Bicentennial Man?
Anyone know when he’s going to make Shave Your Sweaty Chest, Man or its sequel, And, Take Jim Carrey and His Failed Robin Williams Copied Career Path With You, Man? (Sorry, Joe Reid.)
conceptualized by Nick Salemi
Note: as far as relevant Hip Hop goes, the artists discussed here do not apply.
Unfortunately, this is what all non-Hip Hop fans associate with “rap music”. So, they must be clowned on. I know you’re all excited about the Fernandez must be Man-E-Faces. If, for no other reason, than Man-E might be short for Manuel, which would make SeÃƒÂ±or Faces the closest thing to a Hispanic on all of Eternia.
Gloomchen as Evil Lyn is kind of a no-brainer. The evil warrior goddess is getting crazy love for her latest piece.
Mathan = Stinkor, the evil master of odors. But, see, it’s like one of those irony things. Y’know like how a bald guy’s called “curly”. There…I think I got out of that one nicely. Anyways, read about his unspoken love affair for Fiona Apple, who tastes nothing like Apple Jacks, but you know Mathan’s motto: “He eats what he likes.”
Mike Eagle becomes Buzz-Off, our heroic spy in the sky! You’ve gotta read his latest for these two words: “patchy booty”. Trust me, you’ll laugh.
For the fan who’s already tired of NCAA hoops!
And, for his brother!
Moodspins may be hard to find on our main page (Memo to Matthew Michael), but hit it up if you can. Mr. Erhardt’s Five Reasons Why Being A Black Male Rocks is funnier than a sack of Salemis.
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. This week, he casts Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes as…Lois Lane? And, fans of Sinbad, the chubby yellow comic, are in for a treat, along with those of you still holding stock in Zubaz.
Oh, and Joe debuts his minute-by-minute movie diary of The Matrix: Reloaded! Watch him bash all the scenes that you fanboys adored!
A is for me.
M is for TV Mathan. He celebrates the return of The Shield, mourns the death of Winston Zedmore and invites me over to discuss Far East stereotypes. Ancient Chinese Secret, indeed. Ooh, but click over to the TV Zone because his latest column should be up today! If for no other reason that to read his final Oz series retrospecticus.
Life With the Bootleg Family
So, last week, I opened up the column by poking fun at my local Post Office. This week, it would seem that those chub-a-lub government mules had infiltrated my own home and played me like a fool. It’s a segment the media have dubbed Post Office 2: Postage is Due!
This writer suggested
Return Revenge to Sender, but was shouted down at the Press Club.
Tuesday mornings around Stately Bootleg Manor begin the same way, every week…with the mutually exclusive occurrences of Gloomchen and garbage. Y’see, I was making my way out to the garage to pull our trash can outside, when I noticed two envelopes on the hood of my car.
If the wife wants me to mail something, which is always a bill of some kind, she’ll put it on my car, secure in the fact that it’ll get mailed.
My commute is all of 2.5 miles, which translates into about five minutes and four stoplights. When I arrived at work, I seemed to be…missing something. Well, two things, actually, as both envelopes were nowhere to be found.
There could only be one explanation and it wouldn’t be the first time that I’d driven off with something (sorry, “Whiskers”) or someone (babies really are resilient!) on top of my car. For the sake of argument, we’ll assume that the dreams of my boss found under my car aren’t eligible for entry.
Anyways, since my commute is so damn short and I was already about 15 minutes late to work, I figured I’d just double back and try to find the envelopes (and the enclosed checks) that surely blew off my hood around the time my Saturn topped out at 30 mph.
You know when people say, “It sounded like a good idea at the time”?
I drove my same path back home, while looking side-to-side the whole way. It probably looked as ridiculous as it sounds…a 1998 Saturn that appeared to be driven by a 1998 D’Lo Brown. I finally got back home and found the groundskeeper for the area around our row of town houses.
Of course, I asked him if he had found a couple of envelopes on the ground in the driveway and he responded, “Yes!” Embiggened with relief, I asked him what he did with ’em.
“No hablo Ingles…”
In San Diego, California…wow, didn’t see that one coming.
Returning to work, I called the wife at around 8:00 AM and left a voice mail that she’d need to cancel whatever checks were in those envelopes. She called back two hours later to let me know that Jalen’s prescription was also mixed in there, as if I couldn’t feel any worse.
Then, she told me she took the envelopes to work with her and they were already off my car, by the time I drove to work.
But, some good did come out of all of this. After all these years of having the “boss under the car” dream, he’s been replaced with a new hood ornament that I like to loving call my first wife…
Let’s exchange bracket misery. Get at me on AOL or Yahoo IM: ajcameron13