True Urban Legends

themes...just as my most recent work for Shotgun Reviews' Lyrical Lounge comes out:

http://www.shotgunreviews.com/2007/04/25/animate-objects-the-new-hot-sauce/

with the title taken from the words of the polyamorous emcee's mouth, the current issue of Nightlife is circulating with still shots of me guzzling hot sauce (my "dare"). seriously though. fire.

great seque to the next heat i'm working on...

i thought i scored big with jamie foxx's comedy series (courtesy of la grande bibliotheque) but it wasn't that great. sheryl underwood was the clear shining star though, dangit, what a bit. that and mister foxx's improv r&b songs were money "where my keys at?!". too bad he hasn't worked with songwriters or producers that can actually make something of his talent as a singer/piano player. especially after his ideal moment after winning the oscar and hitting big with kanye... this morning/last nite: i was floored again with the genius of B.O.B in the phones, where oh where might THAT outkast be? Stankonia is, in my opinion, their most solid album, what with such gems as "humble mumble" (republican..chicken nugget), "call before i come", "gasoline", the whole thing, every single track, solid as old folk's teeth stuck on cobs of corn. and today's youtube collection? def poetry jam. cedric the entertainer's "talking so much about molasses that i don't even want to put none on my pancakes anymore", erykah badu's "fans, friends, artists" (whoo, officially my "who i want to meet" section on MyCrack), common's "keep on" (though i'm sure that it was before he hired that stylist as he was also talking about journos raining on is parade-all signs point to "electric circus" but lonnie, man, i liked that joint, so don't be so closed minded about us writers, ya heard?) and the best ever, miss cheryl "salt" james' beauty-full peace about following leads....check it.

doods, the "hip hop is NOT dead, bitches" article got the online industry cosign. i knew i had a good feeling about that one!

is big brother monitoring gmail? 'cuz like facebook used to be, it's a private club, you have to be invited in. i just realized this when i invited mizthang yesterday, popped her wukillabaybee cherry :) and we were able to get caught up until the wee small hours of the morning. if i've been distracted, it's because i'm processing the news that i've received lately as it has to deal with events (we'll talk about it later) near and not so far.

also, i learned that you can go "off the record" and pop in and out, fancy, fancy. no accordians, kissing or smacking like myspace, but those fuckers removed that option anyway.

now, i'm chatting in english, french and creole-"wi se sa" ("oui, c'est ca") in one conversation and i don't even speak creole!

also, my celly has been jumping all morning with texts from toronto to indiana, and i'm dealing with chicago's finest (in my opinion) to interview and review.

got the new timbaland and had to message the one who invited me to gmail because he's got a song about pie. i'm resisting bumping it because i wasn't impressed with the preview, so i turned up the josh martinez instead, aporkalypse now!

hugs and pounds (sean price for president!), co-sign of the times.

damn. i'll never understand men, i tell you, but hey, don't bite the gift horse in the mouth or whatever. research is as research does, and i'll never turn down a source.

here's today's (and yesterday's dinner topic of conversation):

http://www.cakeandcunnilingus.com/cunnilingus.html

for real. someone must be listening about the black forest cake and all.

and it links to this other interesting article, if you're too "shy" to check the first link:

http://observer.guardian.co.uk/magazine/story/0,11913,967957,00.html

ok, gotta go. now.

damn, "impersonating stalin" as name of the act? wow. deep.

http://www.natcreole.com/index.htm

'nuff said.

proud, big babies.

the Apple is still checkin' for me yet.

BK hip hop festival June 21, i asked 5 months ago and i'll ask again, who's with me?!

i was wondering if i am starting to sound like those folks who won't let up about hip hop being dead when death is not synonymous with selling out/being sold out.

after yet another dinner party conversation (and dinner parties are the greatest!) ironically with folks that all came together as strangers two nites in a row fondue then curry (we brought the cake and sextalk).

but today i had to go and check out "assbook", the first nails in the resistance coffin, the "underground" movement, if you will, that truthfully states and perpetuates the truths of online "friendship".

facebook used to be the rage because it had that country club allure, if you weren't a student, you couldn't join. users thumbed their noses at the more "provincial" myspacers (friendster and hi5 just didn't stand a chance in the face of these two powerhouses).

then, facebook was sold out and transformed quickly into the opposite, it became not only completely open to the "students of life", but it started giving out detailed accounts of every single little move that each and every person on your friendslist made. people didn't seem to react badly to this "big brother" status, rather they celebrated it by turning facebook into the syphillis that people seem proud to share (my assessment).

Assbook, on the contrary, is a witty acknowledgement and mockery of facebook, that has no qualms about calling a spade a spade. the options for describing your status are: "taken, still looking, or desperate". you must choose to be looking for: "complete celebacy, fuck and forget, someone to call me princess, or one true love".

they hold you personally responsible for any transactions gone badly, and the quote that joining up is "easier than handling a stingray" (paraphrased, so i shouldn't parenthesize) had me laughing all the while that i was confirming my "assword". perhaps the truest indication of how these things really work, i joined up and nobody was waiting for me (not even tom) or interested in being my friend. experiment successful.

so, while i will argue staunchly for the posthumous incarnations of that hippity hop music, i maintain that facebook is ass-backwards. talk to a real person, it's not just a way of the past.

so, the new justin timberlake video.

'member when he was leaving cameron diaz and they were speculating that he was datin scarlett johansson? well, i guess it was for this video.

and a few years back when usher was coming out of his older woman relationship with chilli and they were saying that he was dating alicia keys and it was just for that video?

the best part is that the timbaland beat for that song is recycled off deliverance, so i suppose he's really taking timberlake under his wing as his great white hype, er hope.

at any rate, it's country, some next level ish. mark my words.

break the ice.

for all the "Canadians" who base their whole "identity" around distinguishing themselves from "Americans", i commit treason for the following reason: there are some kickass Americans (it's a big country, man) who are out there making some excellent contributions to the world of "pop" culture, which in the current political climate, are crucial because when the dog wagging distractions start to become biting and witty, the traversing of a new paradigm can be marked.

the last two movies i've seen have been proof positive of this, the first being "Blades of Glory" which admittedly i saw because i really couldn't miss a Princess Diana looking Jon Heder skating doubles with a burly Will Ferrell (who trumps Alanis' version of humps by "rapping" it whilst running on a treadmill and stuffing his face with chicken). the concept of Americanizing the sport of ice skating with the first "twin dong" having pairs couple that wins with a move that only those in North Korea were crazy enough to attempt is saying something else. also, the incestuous (literally) pair who cheats to win skate routines in which they are Marilyn Monroe and JFK as well as "urban" soljahs rocking ice grills, cornrows, painted on denim (false tattoos across their bellies in gothic font) to "good vibrations".

speaking of Marky Mark, he's looking a lot like Donnie with the scruffy face and the ponytail in Shooter, the new film by Antoine Fuqua (really starting to respect this man) who is brave enough to be the first one to start the conspiracy theory ball rolling (on screen, because the rest of us have been thinking this for quite some time) that 9/11 was indeed a hoax. he "cache sa jeu (ou jupe)" well, choosing instead to point to Ethiopia for oil related calamities, but implicates senators directly all the same. presidential assasinations, FBI complicity ("how did the "evidence" of the shooting come in 21 minutes after? we're not THAT good!") and thugs with elaborate torture devices who we usually see working against the American government and not within it, and some Macgyver like tactics that almost distract the viewer into thinking that the fundamental right to bear arms is a worthy cause to fight for, and that revenge killing is justified.

provocative, intelligent, necessary.

overall feeling? gratitude. pride.