The Friday Music News Bootleg

Welcome back to The Bootleg. Last week, I think I mentioned that I was a baseball fan. Not exactly “breaking news” if you’ve been reading this space for more than a few weeks, but this is the time of year where I’m especially proud of my fanaticism.

Every April, the schedule makers see fit to send my Oakland A’s down south to Anaheim for a few games. And, for the last 15 years, off and on, I’ve hooked up with a friend or four to take in the action live. We’ve all come a long way from the days where one of our parents would pick us up from school and drop us all off at the ballpark armed with only our wits, a Sharpie and a pair of Topps team sets.

OK, see”¦after reading that last sentence, you should be imagining wavy lines appearing on your screen. It’s either the universal symbol for “flashback sequence” or a TV shot of St. Louis, Missouri in mid-August. And, for those of us who remember the scantily-clad cows in Nelly’s Country Grammar video”¦let’s go with “flashback”.

There was the game in 1990, where we took heckling to a new level. The A’s were puttin’ a hurtin’ on the Halos early when a young, rocket-armed right-hander named Mike Fetters took a seat in the bullpen”¦and tore into an order of chicken wings”¦during the game”¦in full view of, well, everyone.

Now, Fetters is likely not unfamililar with the “husky” size of Sears’ Toughskins Jeans, anyway. But, the image of Buffalo sauce, bleu cheese and 265 lbs. of a ballplayer wearing wall-to-wall white polyester”¦wait a minute”¦is that the bullpen phone?

Sure enough, Fetters had to whip out the Wet-Nap, warm up and get into the game. We were all losing our minds at this point, riding him like Bart Simpson rode “Stampy”, when the bullpen fence opened. Fetters was in, but not before throwing out a handful of chewed chicken bones in our direction. None of the sticks of gristle and cartilege came close to hitting us”¦which would be an odd theme that would continue in 1994.

It was pretty much the same cast of characters on our end and we had turned our obnoxious observations and vocalizations towards the capacity crowd. This was one of those games where the lead changed hands several times. And, adding to the anxiety, it had to be a hundred degrees that day.

Late in the game, the locals had had enough of us and began throwing food our way. Oddly enough, save for the occasional bit of hot dog bun bouncing off our backs, nothing was hitting us. The fans flung bigger bits of ballpark projectiles”¦all without success. It was like we had Jessica Alba’s Invisible Girl force field from The Fantastic Four. Except, ours kept the crap away, instead of casting it alongside us.

This went on for awhile, until a frustrated fan lobbed his light beer our way. I recognized the translucent lager immediately as it hit a woman seated in front of us”¦who was holding a baby. Ah, the sweet scent of suds and Similac.

Now, I know how protective the Mama Bear is of her Baby Bear. In the fairy tales, I’m told that she’s still got bits of Goldylocks in her gums. So, imagine our surprise when this woman”¦who was now smelling like that hoochie who gets sprayed at the end of the Nuthin’ But a G Thang video”¦asked us to leave!

Today, it’s 2005 and my friends and I have mellowed in our old age. Last Friday, it was just me and a downsized crew of one other guy. I had some special merchandise made for the moment and the local fans got on me pretty good. At least, until my team rallied in the ninth to win it.

Trash was talked”¦some was tossed”¦and for a few hours, all of The O.C. were once again our bitches. And, yes”¦The Goodness knows that my wife married one.

Game Over (Damn Right I’m Over!)

Well, it’s been about six weeks since The Game and 50 Cent suckered us all into their little faux feud to help market Massacre, the new album from Fiddy. And, for those of you who insist that all of your rage be staged”¦you’ll be glad to know that The Game has been hit with a 280 million dollar civil lawsuit in connection with an alleged assault.

Oh, come on”¦you don’t think this is real, do you? I mean, $280,000,000? Assault or not, only two types of people would even dare ask for that kind of money. The first is one who’d threaten the entire free world with his inherently evil persona.

As for the second”¦well, come to think of it, he could probably be described in the exact same way.

Anyways, the real victim is a former Washington, D.C. radio personality named DJ Zxulu. He claims The Game beat him like one of Wayne Brady’s bitches back on January 21.

And, yes”¦I said “DJ Zxulu”.

Jesus Christ, how long do these guys spend on their pseudonyms? I mean, we’re even spotting most of them a “D” and a “J” and Zxulu is the best they can come up with? What was the runner-up radio name, Venus Flytrap?

What A Way to Make a Livin’!

Former front man for 2 Live Crew, Luther Campbell, will be making his long-awaited return to the courtroom as part of the fallout from Uncle Luke’s Freakshow“¦Volume III. Yeah.

The issue at hand is the claim of a Georgia man who alleges that two of Campbell’s female performers held the (chuckle) “victim” against his will and “enticed him into stripping in front of a crowd while the camera rolled”. Umm”¦two women held one man against his will? Sorry”¦I ain’t buyin’ it. Now, three women”¦? Absolutely”¦or am I the only one who realizes that this is the 25th anniversary of the theatrical release of 9 to 5?

Three business-class broads (well, two business-class and one secretary”¦ably played by Dolly Parton’s wig n’ boobs combo) kidnap their boss and hilarity ensues. The movie struck a blow for women’s rights a full two years before Ms. Pac-Man hit arcades.

At the time, it was considered the turning point for redefining the “fragile female” fallacy. It was estrogen and entertainment intertwined like never before. And, then we forgot all about it”¦like the Equal Rights Amendment or the 1999 Women’s World Cup soccer team.

Meteor Man Had A Better Costume”¦Meteor Man!

I gotta tell you”¦I’m absolutely loving the fact that all of these nonsensical nom-de-guerres are finally biting these bastards in the ass. First, C-Murder Was The Case for the Bayou-bred baby brother of rapper Master P. Now, staring down the barrel of a life sentence, Murder is changing his stage name.

Following in his shackled footsteps, urban impresario, Irv “Gotti” Lorenzo and his brother, Chris have taken steps to drop their make-believe Sicilian surnames and change the name of the record label from Murder, Inc. to “MI Records”.

This is pretty much legal entanglement equivalent of Superman putting on glasses and expecting to fool anyone into thinking that he and Clark Kent aren’t the same person. Speaking of which, I’m sure everyone has seen the first images of Brandon Routh as The Man of Steel.

Horrible. Not, Shaq as Steel horrible, but in the same neighborhood. It’s just that everything seems a little”¦off. The boots are a few inches too short. The en vogue low-rise panties and matching belt loops don’t say “guy”, they say “queer eye”. And, what’s with the quirky “S” on his chest? Does it now stand for “screen-printing” and nobody told me?

If this guy tries to fly, I’ll expect to see an adult accompanying him as an “escorted child”.

The Team of Hulk Hogan & Scottie “Macho Man” Pippen

Move over Mathan! Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey will soon be Living Las Vegas! The not-so-Newlyweds have purchased a condo in the new Palms Place high rise. Of course, it’s not scheduled to open until 2007, but, when you’re rich (bitch) you can put down a six-figure deposit on new desert digs. I’m told that’s how they roll.

The condo complex is entirely owned by George Maloof. Sports fans may know him better as one of The Maloof Bros”¦co-owners of the NBA’s Sacramento Kings. In fact, I’m betting it’s probably even money that the condos will be completed quicker than it takes the last two minutes of an NBA game to go down. And, that’s just one reason why I have no patience for “The Association” any longer.

For me, the break-up began with Michael Jordan’s first retirement in 1993. The Bulls were still champs, but the face of the championship run went from MJ to Scottie Pippen. Oh, Lord that face. The whole thing was not unlike Randy Savage’s run with the WWF title in 1988, while Hulk Hogan was off playing minor league baseball making a movie.

Both Scottie and Randy were pretty much placeholders for their predecessors. Their respective heel turns featured both men turning on their white, withered elders.

Meanwhile, the role of Elizabeth could’ve been played in the NBA by 90% of the league’s wives. You know what I mean”¦

It’s the”¦Eye of the Cougar

American Idol pretty face n’ pill popper, Paula Abdul, is threatening legal action against anyone who gives Corey Clark the media-made means to continue his claims that the 24-year-old former Idol contestant had an affair with Abdul. Word on the street is that Paula would’ve potentially ponied up two million dollars to Clark if he had kept their alleged arrangement a secret.

Now, unless those MC Skat Cat residuals or Arsenio alimony checks are still coming in, I’m guessing her net worth is somewhere south of $2 million and somewhere north of “will sell my Soma-scented story to People“.

Of course, that’s not to say that a younger man can’t find love with an older woman. Hell, Mrs. Bootleg is three years older than me. And, didn’t Eddie Murphy get all up into Eartha’s Kitty in Boomerang? An hour later, he ended up with Halle Berry!

Sooooo”¦how many more years do I have to wait?

Sometimes the News Just Writes Itself

What’s a circular-shaped celebrity to do when her ABC series has been cancelled and the McRib’s limited-time test run has ran out? If you’re Kelly Osbourne, you turn your wrath on”¦your dog?

Animal rights activists are all up in arms over Oinks-A-Lot and her preference for pink as a great shade of fur for Fido. Actually, her bulldog’s name is “Piglet”, but I’d have lost all access to alliteration if I’d used it there. So, that’s the story”¦Kelly Osbourne has dyed her dog’s fur pink.

Has anyone ever thought that the entire Osbourne Family might just go away if we stopped paying attention to them? You people watched their unintelligible show and mooed for more from MTV. Then, came the commercials, the cameos”¦and now you want ol’ Aaron to rid the world of this British blight? ‘K”¦here’s a little ditty I didn’t do:

To stop those Osbournes, 1″¦2″¦3,
Here’s a fresh new way that’s trouble-free.
It’s got Paul Anka’s a-j-c’s guarantee”¦!
(Guarantee void in Tennessee.)

Just don’t look. Just don’t look.

Unless, of course, Inside Pulse Music scores an exclusive interview with one of them. Even if you don’t read it, you can bet we’ll beat into the ground by bombarding you with headline banners.

And, you thought that talking ad off to the right was annoying.

Nick’a Please
conceptualized by Nick Salemi

Nick is taking some time off from his weekly segment. Right now, his life is far too hectic to kick in his 10-minutes of 100 words of work for me. So, while we wait for his return, you get The Best of Nick Salemi”¦that leaves the rest for the women in his life.

Basketball’s Best Kept Secret Director’s Cut Extended Review

Last week, we here at the offices of the Bootleg, [Nick’a Please Division] brought you a quick hit review of Basketball’s Best Kept Secret, a compilation CD of NBA players’ attempt to rap, released back in 1994. It was one of those albums you were embarrassed to have six months after it came out but wish you still had for the unintentional comedy factor today. Y’all seemed to like it but the major complaint was that it was too short and that I should give the whole CD its due.

No fear as Nicka will provide you with song-by-song analysis of this 5-mic classic. Some of the songs I went over last week so I’m including that stuff with a few “Extended Deleted Scenes Bonus Footage” comments as well.

Check It-Dana Barros
DB actually holds up well as he comes the closest to sounding like an actual MC but in the end his track comes off like a watered down Black Moon joint from around the same time. Am I dating myself with that reference? Speaking of which did anyone realize that he was on the Celtics playoff roster this year and played ONE minute?

Like I said hold your head son/ it’ll only take a second
check it out now/c’mon while I wreck it

Apparently he was off by 59 seconds.

Lost in the Sauce-Malik Sealy

R.I.P. Malik. Since he’s no longer with us, I’m gonna go easy on him.
Actually big Malik has a pretty distinct sounding voice. I’m not sure if that’s a compliment, but the hook”¦

Life’s just one big jump shot/you’re either on or you might be off

Mic Check 1, 2-Shaquille O’Neal feat Ill and Al Scratch

No athlete-rap album would be complete without Shaq stopping by for “Mic Check 1,2”. 90s relics Ill and Al Scratch show up to assist the Big Aristotle. While Shaq’s rap “career” has become somewhat of a joke he did drop a couple of songs later on that were respectable. This is not one of them. Peep game son:

I could freak it Shaqapello/This big fellow
Is that your girlfriend-how you doin’ hello
a-e-i-o-u and sometimes y/call me jimmy snuka cause I’m superfly

It’s a faq yo Shaq that sh*t is waq.

Flow On-Cedric Ceballos featuring Warren G

This one had a video that actually got some play on Rap City if I recall. Although much of the mid 90s may have disappeared into a haze of hops and barley, I distinctly remember bumpin’ this song in my dorm like it was all good or something. IT WASN’T. I believe this was around the time Cedric was on a jet-skiing sabbatical when he took a vacation in the middle of the NBA season. He got Warren G to produce the track, which Cedric the non-entertainer so dutifully notes in the song:

Verse 3 I think it’s time to wrap this thing up/
Warren G flexed the cut make it go bumpity bump

It does have that mid 90s west coast vibe. However, the lyrics are hysterical.

It’s a West Side thang/Mics I slang
Winnin’ battles ain’t nothing but a chicken wing

Holy shit. KFC’s new slogan:”Winnin battles ain’t nothing but a chicken wing!” I heard Dre and Snoop originally wanted to call their classic Nuthin’ But a Chicken Wing Thang but shortened it.

Anything Can Happen-Brian Shaw

Damn, has everyone on this album played for the Lakers? Well, Brian’s right, anything can happen. Including embarrassing himself by recording a rap song. This song actually is a heartfelt recounting of Shaw’s rather rough life where he lost most of his family. However the lame ass R&B hook is beyond comprehension:

Anything can happen/life is like a pool game
People don’t know/and its a damn shame

Listen, I’m a fan of hip-hop so I let a lot of things slide. Shouldn’t B-Shaw’s R&B crooner say how life is like a pool game? Just follows it up with “people don’t know”?

Well the song was produced by Ant Banks who myself, Aaron Cameron and Ant Banks know also did some otherworldly production on Deion Sanders seminal classic, Prime Time.

That my friends, is a whole separate Nick’a Please.

Sumptin’ To Groove To-Chris Mills
The “fly-girl” layer as he calls himself, raps like a black Ben Stein, never changing his cadence. By the end of the 2nd verse he’s already done trying to make the words rhyme.

Let’s take it to the bank
I gotta give thanks to my friends and my folks
Cause without them/Who knows where I’d be
I’m Chris Mills/ you can’t see me

I’m C-Mills kid, I know you know. Fortunately I don’t.

What the Kidd Didd-Jason Kidd featuring Money B.

Mad props to Money B of Digital Underground for the biggest drop-off in playing second banana hype-man on a rap track EVER. How the F#$% did he go from being on 2Pac’s I Get Around to this sh*t?

Anyway, there’s no denying J-Kidd is the NBA’s best point guard but if teams want to rattle him, they should start playing this song every time he brings the ball up. I can’t tell you how many hours of enjoyment this track has given me. Guaranteed laughs. The best way to describe it is it sounds like someone forced him to do karaoke and he decided to just talk over the beat. Some classic lines that I still use today:

“No one said bein’ a Kidd was easy”

“I give assists like a high school tutor”

“More steals than Rickey Hen from the Pac 10”

“But hey accidents happen”
(I assume this was before his hit and run incident?)

(Editor’s note: 10 years later I still don’t know what his line: “I shoulda seen it comin’ like Rocky’s momma” means, so if anyone knows, please enlighten me.)

Funk In the Trunk-J.R. Rider

Another ex-Laker. Well I’ve heard worse raps than his. Unfortunately, most of them were on this album. I assume he was in some sort of substance-induced state of mind when he recorded it. The real tragedy is that it doesn’t have the comic appeal of J-Kidd or Shaq.

It’s the funk in your trunk slammin’ hard like a monster dunk

He’s givin’ me nothing to work with here.

All Night Party-Dennis Scott featuring Sauce Money

DJ Clark Kent lends his name on this production and includes verses from then unknown Sauce Money. The beat sounds like most of the East Coast stuff from around that time. Another cookie-cutter, awful R&B hook. Well-produced and they do their best to hide D-Scott, much like his agent after he flipped out on a bunch of kids at a basketball camp. If anyone out there was in attendance, please let us know.

Livin’ Legal and Large-Gary Payton

Opening line/hook:

Livin Legal and Large GP’s the Maaaaan in charge/He’s got his game on youuuuuuuuu

Play that opener over and over again, it’s a close second to Kidd’s track for comedy. Awesome stuff. GP is actually OK on this. It seems as though he’s doing his best impersonation of fellow Bay Area icon Too Short.

Ya Don’t Stop-Dana Barros/Cedric Ceballos/Diamond D/Grand Puba/A.G./Sadat X

The CD closes out with a barrage of MCs that are nowhere to be found anymore and 2 B-ballers. Nothing really funny about this one except that Sadat X, who was OK back in the day, now sounds like Dave Chappelle when he jokingly raps on his show. You can almost hear him say:

I’m Sadat X, and I’m stuck on this sh*tty album, bitch!

Well folks, it looks like Basketball’s Best Kept Secret is finally out of the bag. Pick up a $.99 copy on eBay. I get 2-cent residuals for each one sold as Nicka Please surely will cause a surge in purchases of this album over the next week.

General Haberdashery”¦Rambling Segue Edition

Jeff Fernandez is repulsed by the thought of a chicken salad finding a home inside of a fruit salad. I say, have a bite”¦you might be surprised. Here in San Diego, the fish taco is our city’s signature dish. And, have you never had pigs in a blanket? Roscoe’s Chicken n’ Waffles? New Smoothie Mix Skittles? Now, quit that jibber-jabbering.

Harvey Dent doesn’t hate the white man”¦he just wants you to keep your damn hands off our words. Quick corrections to his column: it was actually the citizenry of Fiji that stole “brother” from the bruthas and that “Indian” guy from the PSA he references was actually”¦a white guy. Look for 500 words on that indignity in his next column.

Gloomchen tells a tale that’s wrapped in lies, cliques and dirty dishes. It’s the online literary equivalent of working at Denny’s. And, really”¦sausage and bacon in the same order? There is such a thing as cured pork overkill. Pick one or the other and double up on the hash browns, instead.

Open Mike Eagle explores Hip Hop and religion, but fails to address its most annoying intersection: the unsolicited solicitation. I’m speaking mostly of those email forwards that speak glowingly of God, then end with something like “How come we forward immoral perversions to one another, but hesitate to spread His word to the world?” Just a guess, but maybe cuz God’s really not that funny.

Ssquared has a job! But, he won’t say where. Too bad, cuz I’ve got no place to send that $20 I owe for last week’s pizza. Speaking of which, if you’re looking for a different kind of combination”¦try pepperoni, pineapple and jalapeños. It’s sweet, it’s spicy, it’s sassy!

And, speaking of segue”¦

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 asks if there can ever be a Happy Passover, while equally offending Jews and Gentiles with imagery of full-length furs, erectile dysfunction and”¦Johnson Family Vacation? Ooh, plus a shot at The Scorpion King that is unlike any of the other ones”¦from earlier this decade.

And, be sure check out Movie Joe Reid’s Low Resolution blog. He bashes five of my favorite Inside Pulse writers and another two that I can’t stand, either.

A is for me.

M is for TV Mathan. He furthers the cause by referring to Law & Order’s Detective Green as “the Black cop”, while referring to the white D.A. by name. Coincidence? Yeah, probably. And, I tried to watch that marathon of The Office on MSNBC(?) last Sunday, but I wasn’t feeling it. It was like those Burger King commercials without the onion ring dipping sauce. I love that stuff.

Junk Mail

You know it’s going to be one of those weeks when I start getting email on other people’s columns.

Not sure if you plan on bringing back “Ask a White Person”, but if I can ask a black person something: what’s up with your boy, Mathan? Now, (the white man) is stealing the black man’s words? Tell him that we’ll give him back “jiggy”, if he agrees to take Derek Jeter back, too”¦S.D.


(Mathan’s) columns are like reading one man losing his mind one week at a time. Dude, you’ve got to speak on this. Black slang is, well, “slung” into American homes every night thru Stuart Scott on Sportscenter or music videos on whichever MTV network still shows music videos. They WANT us to take their words and they WANT us to use them improperly. It goes right back to the fact that stand-up comedians need to have something to use when they say stuff like “How come white people have names like ‘Lenny’ and black people have names like ‘Carl’?”¦T.A.


AJC”¦Tell Mathan to get a woman and stop yelling at us. Using your own reference from (last) week: he’s like a militant Michael Irvin except there’s no off-season”¦S.E.

These are my readers”¦or maybe they’re Mathan’s readers and just hit the wrong “send feedback to” link. Meh”¦they’re my readers now, Math.

Life With the Bootleg Family

Now, I’m the last brutha to brag about himself”¦but, I like to think that I’m a pretty good cook. I’m not an Ebony Emeril, but I think my cooking skillz are worthy of the improper, but popular use of the letter “z” at the end.

One of my specialties is a chicken-garlic linguini, with an emphasis on the garlic. It’s been a Bootleg Family fave for years, as the wife’s eyes still embiggen with anticipation with every pulse of the garlic press. And, as with any meal, once you’ve perfected it, no one wants you to change a thing with it. Until now, apparently”¦

“Could you make the pasta without so much garlic so Jalen can have some?”

And, who wouldn’t want to kill any and all of their culinary integrity just so an infant with 12 teeth can take two bites? If this were an isolated incident, I’d rightfully ridicule her and then move on. But, now, it seems as if every food decision has to be made with Baby Bootleg in mind.

Last night, I was working late, when the wife called offering to do the drive-thru for dinner. Now, let’s be honest. Once you’re out of college, there’s not a whole lotta differentiation between Burger King and KFC. It’s deep fried food, no matter which way you squeeze the greasy bag.

But, on this night, Mrs. Bootleg couldn’t come up with any kid-friendly fast food chain. I should mention that, on my watch, Baby Bootleg has ingested cat food (wet & dry), that small rubber tip from those springy doorstops and months-old Cheerios that have been shaken from the cracks of the couch.

Yes”¦this is the child who’s too good for a few bits of biscuit or the pickings off of that superfluous third slice of bun in a Big Mac. For God’s sake, woman, haven’t we all tasted the inedible end results of Chef Boyardee preparing his pasta for Baby Boyardee?

You’re not putting my Goodness in a can.

Every word in this column is now Mathan-Approved! Get at me on AOL or Yahoo IM: ajcameron13