On February 10, The Bootleg column will come to an end after a three-year run, first on 411Mania and then here on Inside Pulse. And, I can’t think of any better way to say “thank you” to my readers than to offer up the biggest giveaway in Bootleg histo-ray. Details are buried at the bottom of The Goodness”¦no scrolling ahead.
Welcome back to The Bootleg. I’m glad that I could actually make this week’s column, since I’ve been secretly spending the last month or so conspiring with the Blacks, the Jews and the U.S. Government to replace “Merry Christmas” with “Happy Holidays” in traditionally holy enclaves like”¦the mall.
Hopefully, everyone had a great, um, “end of December celebration”, be they Christian, Jew or”¦”miscellaneous”.
Does everyone remember how on Christmas morning”¦for your first few years”¦all of your toys were magically assembled and glistening alongside the tree’s aluminum tinsel?
Well, what none of us knew is that it ain’t Santa Claus and/or some cheap Mexican-elfin day-laborers putting these red wagons and tot rods together. Apparently, that’s all part and parcel with parental responsibilities. Christ”¦first I learn I have to come home at night, now this.
And, do y’all know what the latest trend in assembly instructions for a toddler’s toy is? That’s right”¦no words.
Everything is “written” with pictures only. Imagine two dozen frames in which a pair of white hands follows an array of arrows, along with images of unfamiliar tools and screws that all seem to fit together perfectly on paper.
Now, imagine my son’s Red Rocket Racer, built by my hands, with the steering wheel stuck in a perpetual left turn. American-made, indeed. Although, now that I think about it, that’s pretty much Danica Patrick complete job qualifications and she’s rich n’ famous despite the absence of even a partially developed upper lip.
It was still a good holiday, anyways.
Mother Nature gave us one of those patented 75 degree, San Diego Christmas Days. Y’know, the kind that everyone in the Midwest and on the East Coast mocks us for and then wishes they had when it’s still snowing in April. Back there, “April” is the month before their two weeks of “spring”, followed by six months of the next season: “humidity”.
Oh, I’m kidding, rest of the country, I’m kidding”¦ In fact, for the rest of this column, I’m letting my son take over my non-music intro mocking of you people:
The Goodness is the antithesis of a White Christmas.
“My Ly-berry Cards Finna Change Into Credit Cards”
You know we must be approaching Super Bowl Week here in The States, when this is considered “news”.
Dateline: Detroit”¦ Have you ever wondered what would happen if the irresistible hype machine of Hip Hop met the immovable hype machine of pro football’s superfluous seven days of season-ending celebrations? In a breaking news exclusive, our friends at SOHH.com have learned that rapper Jay-Z has been denied access to the Detroit Public Library.
And, my, what high standards those must be. Where else can one flip through the last 12 months of Jet Magazine on microfiche?
Now, I’m not saying that the Motor City is known more for “litter” than “literati”, but Jay-Z’s application for a library card was actually an attempt to use the venue for a Super Bowl party. In a public library. And, according to city officials, the reason Jigga was denied access was due to the fact that he didn’t file the proper permits and insurance forms in time.
So, if the paperwork was filed promptly”¦ah, you know what”¦I’d rather not think about it. Let’s just say”¦your city’s probably a lil’ “ghetto” if your public library is like one of those restaurants that converts into a club at sundown.
Hell, at least if the city converted their courthouse, 80% of the attendees could just hang around until their inevitable arraignments the following Monday.
Can We All Agree That This is a Victimless Crime?
Now, here’s a Detroit story that makes more sense.
Eminem protégé, Obie Trice, was shot in the face early last Saturday morning in what’s being described as a possible road rage incident. The shooting occurred on the Lodge Freeway just outside of Detroit, as Trice was behind the wheel of his sports utility vehicle with his girlfriend riding”¦shotgun.
Nothing?
Well, I’d like to see you try to find the funny in a week-old story like this.
And, no fair pointing out that Obie only survived because he was probably shot in the vicinity of his thick-ass lips, um”¦”strong Afrocentric features“.
Anyways, a few days later, Trice went on Sirius Satellite radio and blamed the shooting on (wait for it) “haters”, who were jealous of the success of Shady Records and their artists. Oh yeah, I can see that. It’s the dead of night on a Saturday in suburban Detroit and look”¦there’s a brutha driving a tricked out SUV. Such a rare sight (especially in this city) can only mean one thing: it’s Obie F*ckin’ Trice.
Hey, let’s shoot him for all that success he’s enjoyed since Got Some Teeth was hot for two weeks in 2003.
Is there anyone who could even pick Obie Trice out of a police lineup? Ah, the year’s still young”¦I’m sure we’ll all find out the answer, soon enough.
She’s the Same Woman Who Gave the World Taxi and Beauty Shop
Those of you who have never been to Hollywood, California might want to save this item in the event that you ever get bitten by the tourist’s urge.
Most of you are still being sold on the city’s century-old utopian reputation when, in reality, Hollywood’s current claim to fame is combining “soulless urban sprawl” with “homeless urine smell”. And, no place else is this city’s myth more exposed than on the “Hollywood Walk of Fame”.
Two days ago, Queen Latifah became the 2,298th celebrity to be presented with a star. By itself, that would be surprising enough, until one reads the list of scheduled stars to be awarded throughout the remainder of ’06: Isaac Hayes”¦Matthew Broderick”¦Steve Martin?!
Now, I know that the Walk of Fame is nothing but a publicity sham used by studios and publicists to hype the recipient’s new projects“¦but, come on. There’s something wrong with Queen Latifah getting a star before a man who has affected five decades of music like Isaac Hayes or a man who’s arguably the greatest comic actor of the last 25 years like Steve Martin or even the wee man-boy who played Ferris Bueller with a youthful zest that belied his actual age of 45.
Speaking of which, what are the odds of Matthew Broderick getting cast alongside the 1986 version of Jennifer Grey and, nearly two decades later, marrying Sarah Jessica Parker?
Such a coincidence of equine bloodlines hasn’t been seen since Man O’ War sired the racehorse that sired Seabiscuit almost eighty years ago.
Ah, Kim”¦I’ll Miss You Most of All
Philadelphia residents were treated to free food, live music and toy giveaways as a part of the first annual “Lil’ Kim Cares Christmas Party”. Close to 1,500 of Philly’s underclass (read: “unemployed”) came with their hands held out, in search of something for nothing.
The event was sponsored by Kim’s non-profit organization in a transparent attempt to curry favor with the prison review board in hopes that she’ll be released early from her 366-day sentence. OK, OK”¦that’s the cynic in me talking. Besides, she only has to stay in the clink for six more weeks to suit me.
What I’d like to know is just who are these “poor and unfortunate” souls who get all the charity at Christmas?
When my brother and I were eight years old, our combined Christmas gifts were a die-cast metal Dukes of Hazard car that was about as big as a bottle of water, a box of Legos and a Chinese checkers set.
That was it. Gifts so sh*tty that even our parents didn’t want to play with us. And, considering they barely had to break a $10 bill, you’d think we’d at least get a pity play or two. Did they just not have these free giveaways in the ’80s or is it just obligatory for every Black childhood flashback to include scenes of Deep South segregation, attack dogs and/or no Nintendo up under the tree?
Hey, my parents suffered in their way and I suffered in mine.
A Fred Durst Joint
The following story may just be what it takes to get Jeff Fernandez’s head to explode.
Lead Bizkit, Fred Durst, is making the media rounds in an attempt to be taken seriously as a feature film director. He reportedly is in line to direct a pair of flicks (Life Without Joe and Runt) which will almost assuredly be on a Blockbuster video shelf before you finish this sentence.
But, Fred ain’t stoppin’ there, as he claims this career change has been more than five years in the making:
“While the band was taking off, I was trying to have meetings with movie people and all Limp Bizkit being successful did was hurt me and get in the way of the movie business.”
Well said, Fred. Limp Bizkit actually hurt a lot of us, too, but you don’t see any of us lining up to work with acclaimed straight-to-video acts like Julia Roberts’ brother or Shelton Benjamin’s mother. Continuing”¦
“They don’t take music people seriously. They’ll take you serious if they wanna throw you in a film and let you be an actor and cash in on your success while you’re hot, and that’s not what I wanted to do.”
Oooh”¦Ja Rule is SO going to shoot you for that one. And, look”¦he brought a friend.
More from Fred:
“I was offered all kinds of cheesy movies that were really successful to direct and I was like, ‘I’m not here to make movies like that.’ I want to make timeless movies. I want to be beside Martin Scorsese and Wes Anderson and Paul Thomas Anderson and Francis Ford Coppola.
I’m a real director.”
This, quite simply, is the greatest quote in Bootleg history. I literally have too much to work with here. Imagine those four names read aloud on Oscar night, with “Fred Durst” thrown in, at the end, as the fifth nominee. I’ll take back everything I said about you, Hollywood, if someone can make this happen.
Just promise me that I can be the one to get Spike Lee’s reaction at the after-party.
Sometimes the News Just Writes Itself: NWS/NSFW Edition
I’m seriously beginning to think that Playboy magazine is becoming the New York Yankees of adult entertainment. Why is it that every big-name celebrity they sign is already in their late 30’s and past their prime?
Depending on whom you believe, R&B diva Toni Braxton is close to an agreement that will see her featured in a spread this summer. However, while the 37-year-old Braxton could soon be taking it off”¦don’t expect her to take it all off:
“I just can’t do the bottom thing because that’s really, really intimate and really personal. But boobies, what is it? A dime a dozen. You can buy some for $5,000. Who cares? But the thing down there, you can’t really buy that.”
Nah”¦too easy.
But, I do wanna ask my women readers something: do you guys really call your breasts “boobies” amongst yourselves or is this one of those chick myths like women wandering around topless in gym locker rooms (as seen in Porky’s, Road Trip, et al.)? And, where is this wonderful wholesale warehouse where boobies are ten cents for twelve?
Do they have a comparable discount table that features, um, slightly irregular merchandise? I’ll take three Kate Beckinsale“¦three Catherine Bosleys“¦um, five Lil Kims“¦and, one of those coconut-covered donuts that always end up in a dozen, but that no one ever eats.
General Haberdashery
OK, where the hell is everybody? I’m down to pimping the four faces of Mathan, people. And, at this point, even the other three wanna kill off Moodspins Math.
Mathan does have a nice little follow-up to his original top ten of 2005 column by writing up on his next 10 of 2005. Does anyone remember when ALL of Math’s music columns were lists of some sort? Is this, like, full circle or something? Which, of course, is not to be confused with Family Circus. “Who ate all the ice cream?” “Not me!”
And, since none of my peers love you enough to keep their weekly commitments (comically shakes fist), I guess you’ll to sit through more from my family 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”¦hasn’t updated his blog. For the entire week? Should we be worried? After all, during his last six months on 411, he posted, like, three columns. It’s no secret that he stopped writing over there because of his disdain for PHIL WATTS and his reading audience-at-large.
But, I’m sure Joe has newness over at The Film Experience. Nothing there, either? In fact, it’s still his December 22 column? Well, I know he’s alive, because we chatted on IM earlier this week and laid the groundwork for our greatest Bootleg co-production ever. In fact, he forwarded the online bio from his new job. And, yes, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t bragging.
A is for me.
M is for TV Mathan. Math hits home with the last Remote Destination of 2005, as I’ve been sucking up The Simpsons DVDs almost always on the day they’re released, while Six Feet Under was one of Mrs. Bootleg favorite shows. Oddly enough, of the seven Simpsons season sets I’ve purchased, three of ’em remain unopened. Hmm”¦if I ever get some free time, say on Thursday nights, I’ll have to crack ’em open.
Junk Mail
It’s good to know that so many people got through to this site during the last week or so of intermittent server crashes and the brief stretches where the chain on Widro’s stationary bicycle generator fell off:
Happy New Year to you, Nick, Joe, Mrs. Bootleg, Kid Bootleg and any Bootleg I forgot. Nicely done on the pat yourself on the back “best of the bootleg” column and the best/worst in Hip Hop for ’05. Personally, I would’ve given Kanye the “album of the year” nod, just because it’s riskier and still raises the bar that College Dropout already set so damn high. As for worst album of the year, you obviously gave the nod to 50 before you heard (album title deleted)”¦
E.P.
Sorry for the self-editing, there. But, on your final point, I agree with you. With just 10 days to go in ’05, I picked up the true worst album of the year. I’ll have a review of it completed this weekend. Look for it next week.
===
C’mon, Cam”¦no Nick in the best/worst Hip Hop piece!?! Reading the two of you sh*tting on stuff in Mystery Science Theater style was the highlight of last year’s feature for me. Besides, how could you not at least hand out dishonorable mentions to for Worst Single of the Year to that Fat Joe and Nelly mess, Get it Poppin or 50’s Candy Shop? And, don’t get me started on Trina’s “Here We Go”
A.S.
Nice. Good call on Here We Go, which is even getting airplay out here in Cali and we have never been on Trina’s cooch on this side of the country. But, speaking of bad music out west”¦
===
Aiight, ajc, I’m gonna say it”¦that Warren G. cut called Get U Down is absolute ass but is ALWAYS on Power 106, 100.3 The Beat and even the new KDAY. I know that he’s your boy, but it’s time for him to find a nice cool corner of the Hip Hop crypt next to Skee-Lo and Domino and just go away.
M.S.
Just ignore them, Warren. Just ignore them all.
===
You’re going to completely skip what has to be the most ridiculous song of all time? I turn on VH1 the other day and end up rewinding the video 3 times, then calling in the wife to air it a 4th because I could not comprehend what I was looking at: an entire song devoted to the worship of having precious metals and jewels instead of the good calcium the lord gave you. And I determined that this song, “Grillz” by name, was so insipid and stupid that it would become the biggest track on air for like 4 months and I could not escape it. Just like “In Da Club” two years ago, a time that nearly destroyed my soul. And sure enough, it’s #1 on the Billboards R&B/Hip Hop charts.
M.M.
YES! I mean, how can you not love that hook: “Rob a jewelry store and tell ’em make me a grill”. Thank you, Paul Wall. Thank you, Nelly. Thank you both.
Goodbye Giveaway: The Details
Damn it, I said no scrolling ahead. Anyway, here’s the deal”¦one Bootleg reader will win an unopened, unused, brand spankin’ new iPod Nano. That’s 2GB, 500 songs, retail value $199. All you have to do is answer four questions, spread out over the next four weeks, relating to anything I’ve ever written in The Bootleg.
Starting this week, I’ll run a question in this space. Don’t send me the answer to this or any subsequent questions until all FOUR questions have been posted here! I don’t wanna hear from any of you until January 27, when the fourth n’ final question will appear.
On the 27th, you’ll all have a week to send in ALL the answers in ONE email. And, for kicks, each question will increase in “degree of difficulty” from week-to-week with one point assigned to week one’s question, two points for week two, etc.
The reader with the most points wins. Tiebreaker to be determined, if necessary. Inside Pulse writers ain’t eligible.
This week’s question”¦worth one point: What’s Baby Bootleg’s REAL first name?
I’m Tha Bootlegman”¦and I’m comin’ to get’cha! Get at me on Yahoo or AOL IM: ajcameron13.
