Oh Word, 12/12/10.

Language and boys and whiskers on kittens; these are a few of my favorite things, to paraphrase Rodgers and Hammerstein. It’s usually just a lyric snippet that makes me yell with pleasure (“‘Race cars and weed jars’! CURREN$Y YOU ARE A SUCCINCT GENIUS”), but sometimes the menfolk amaze me with fully-formed sentences too. Since all I wanna do is hang out with Paul Mooney and talk shit or just sit there and listen to him talk shit, and then listen to T.I. read the phone book in his Bankhead lilt, but I can't do either of those things, here's some word joy from the Internet/my record collection/my brain that I'm swooning over:



1. “Zapp IV beneath the ashtray, woofers in the back
Water in the duals make loud glass packs.”

E-40 to start the list, obviously because he's my personal John Keating but also because he teaches me things about worlds I am not a part of. I require this of all the men in my life. Water in the duals make loud glass pack is just gibberish to me; 40 might as well have said Cupcake zebra Pirellis on an airplane fold-down tray and I would feel frustrated, like oh shit, new coke slang I don't know about yet. But then I found this. See, Curren$y, my dad, and UGK aren't the only men I listen to when it comes to car engine stuff.






2. In response to a story on Gawker about an attractive and successful female getting caught up with a not-very-attractive and rather bitchy-looking young man from a wealthy family, and then that female winding up dead, a commenter makes his plea:

Switch the genders around and this paragraph still works. “Foxy gentlemen, date (lady) nerds! They are charming, old-fashioned, sex crazy and will treat you like gold.”

Alas, this is unlikely. Life’s not fair. Nerds don't turn heads and everybody knows the head-turn is the first step toward getting involved in a love affair. Another good example of life not being fair is that that’s not my face on that shirt even though it clearly should be.





3. “He jumped out the Jeep like yo, what up chief
But I don't eat pork, so I guess he wanted beef.”

D-Nice, “25 Ta Life.” Got started thinking about this song because: a) the deathless ubiquity of Vampire Weekend means that they are showing up on Best Of 2010 lists and this picture accompanied one such list:



b) Well would you look at this here, I said. I do believe I have seen a similar photo before that preceded it by about 20 years:


c) Thought about D-Nice and his jeep raps and scrap raps and culinary restriction raps and how great it is to hear what up, chief in a song. I don't eat pork, so I guess he wanted beef. That's really all it takes, you guys, for me to fall in lust, or at least really really strong like. Word-whore English majors for life.







4. Alec Sulkin, Family Guy writer, whose Twitter feed is a series of YES.
















5. "I'm sitting in the house now that was built with the Wu-Tang money," says Syl Johnson in the Voice. THE WU-TANG MONEY, he says, and then looks around at his granite countertops and crown moldings. Love Syl's forthcoming ways and unashamed raking in of vocal-snippet payments. Everybody wanted Arab money a few years ago, remember? Now it's Wu-Tang money, at least if you're a beloved '70s soulster. The real prize, though, is the pile of cash that the creator of all the Law & Orders is sitting on right at this moment. I need some of that Dick Wolf money, you guys.



“Different Strokes.” This UNNHHYYH! is only rivaled by the stupendous James Joseph Brown's guttural explosions into microphones during the years 1967-73. Other than that, this is it, having been stretched and looped and lovingly manipulated by dudes from regions including but not limited to Compton and a certain NYC borough.

mp3.






6. Andrew Kuo, NY Times maker of graphs and sometime DJ at the Cha Cha (but who isn't in this goddamn city, really)









7. “Got a yellow bone bitch rollin’ weed, servin’ grits
You know curly head Amanda, ain’t she from Atlanta?
Condo on Peachtree, roommate named Pamela
In love with her body, girl don’t sweat them lil’ love handles
That’s where I put my hands at when I snatch you up to ram you.”


Curren$y - “Daze of Thunder.”

mp3.


Chevys over Cadillacs. Body-confidence raps. Rust bucket; I spent fifteen huuuuunnid on that muhfucka. The Mac Dre reference (people from Louisiana listen to Mac Dre! I always thought he was a regional thing, but I'm happy his influence has spread--like how I freaked out when Paul Wall mentioned Nickatina). Ramming (sorry, Mom). Admiring the ass, I’ma smoke to that before I tell you get in the bed and arch your back (sorry, Mom). But most importantly: yellow bone girls, a group I proudly rep. I’m like a super super duuuper yellow bone. In summary, it’s still JET LIFE FOOL, and I’m still the #1 stewardess, as long stewardesses are employed by Pan Am circa '72* or Pacific Southwest Airlines whatever year this was:























I also just found out about something called skullcap tincture, which helps with anxiety and is the plant equivalent of Curren$y's voice. An anti-spasmodic, muscle relaxant, and pain killer, this substance will also provide inspiration when I name my next mixtape. Mannie Fresh x YellowBone Logan present: Skullcap Tincture.


*



























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Scarlett exists just to make me feel bad about my personal appearance, plus 5 things that entertained me at work yesterday.

I'm easy; any girl who couldn't get a job with American Apparel because she's not shaped like a 12-year-old boy just does it for me. [V magazine]

• Ornella Vanoni, "L'Appuntamento," which should play in your head every time you see me in a slip, walking around the house to get ready for a fancy, boring party. Sono triste tra la genteche mi sta passando accanto; ma la nostalgia di rivedere te forte pi del pianto. You don't need an English translation, my man. Just listen.

mp3.






• The Onion:






• Jeff Tweedy's son Spencer has a blog, both a regular one and a photo one, and they're better than mine. He's 14, and sassy and adorable. (sorry, Spence! You are.)

"I go to jew camp...(where) half the girls at camp are named 1. rebecca 2. sarah 3. rachel." LOVE.







• Animated album cover GIFs! Via GQ.












• Monch's pre-Mother's Day Twitter tributes, a study in both "Awwww" and "MOMMMM, you're embarrassing me in front of Mos."











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LOL, Reuters.

A tourist poses next to Victoria’s Secret models following their appearance in New York’s Times Square, November 18, 2009. [REUTERS/Brendan McDermid]

That news ticker up there in blue behind the lanky girls!

“There are no accidents” - Elie Wiesel, et al.


This is just more propaganda being used to support the stereotype that fabulously successful swimsuit models such as myself are dumb. Public opinion continues to set my industry back tremendously, and I do not care for it one bit.







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"Sgt. Pet Sounds & the Spiders from Aja."

“It's the year 3000 and archeologists have just discovered a group called The Beatles. One thousand years in the future, the legacy of John, Paul, Greg, and Scottie remains.”

On the heaviest of rotations in apt. 302, here's where science comedy, buffoonish white men in turtlenecks n' glasses, & music nerdery overlap. (Time for a new Vemm already!)

“1965, Shea Stadium: The Beatles. Win. The Super Bowl.”



via The Presurfer




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Andy Kaufman of this rap shit.

All the kids in my city are crying because Doomsies did that cute thing again on Saturday night where he fake shows up for a real show that people pay real money for. Like that other time. OOPSY.

He never said a verse at the show, just fucked around on a laptop. Stones Throw said it was “obvious that he wasn’t going to show up at a venue that fits only 200 people when his performance fee requires venues about 10 times that size.” UM DUH, said a certain lady blogger who was supposed to go to that show and then realized the venue only fits a small amount of people and it was pretty obvious he wasn't gonna show up.

“Doom's not rapping in LA in the dead of a Saturday night for people who need an explanation of his identity in parentheses*. He doesn’t have tiiiiiime, people,” said the same certain lady blogger, “The man has kids and he's friends with all your favorite MCs. He's building. A day to god is 1,000 years.”

She added, “I was gonna pull out the ol' ‘I'd rather have a fake show by a real rapper than a real show by a fake rapper’ line, but then I thought better of it. I don't deal in cliches. That was a close one.”


For the complete experience, I recommend rubbernecking in the Comments section of the HipHopDX story, where some unadulterated e-thuggery and calling-out-ery is occurring. “Major Fail Doom,” says one embittered soldier. OH SNAP. The dude thought Doom was gonna be there for a show that cost 10 bucks because, sure, it could happen (if you's an idiot). Then he walked into a wall and said, “stupid wall!” 'Cause, see, it was the wall's fault.


*



On to happier topics.
Here you go, the gift of Bassline at 01:44. Basslinebasslinebassline.



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He came from somewhere back in her long ago. You should love Gram because I do. Hip-Hop Dishonors.

1. Questo's got it bad for yacht rock in general and Michael McDonald in particular, lives for Christopher Cross, is well-versed in the cats in the cradle and the silver spoon, and is totally wastin' away again in Margaritaville. I don't care for fruity and girly drinks, so you can catch me in RedStripeville.


“What a Fool Believes.” Turn it up, turn it UP.

mp3.




2. Gram Parsons isn't in the Country Music Hall of Fame, but kind souls are trying to get him there [Paste]. Not much else to say there, other than Yep.





3. Russell and Rick are 2 bad muthafuckas - just ask 'em!



“Remember the fake Rolex you had?”

“I never had a fuckin fake Rolex; the fuck outta here.
(I did have a fake-ass Rolex. It was fake as fuck)”



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Monch. Science?/racism. Tracy.

1. Monchichi wants me to be at this show celebrating the 10th anniversary of Internal Affairs but my tickets got lost in the mail. Can you help?


Do the humans behind this know how dumb “Invited Guests” sounds? Who will stand behind me in the crowd to catch me if all the Invited Guests actually show (as this will cause me to faint)? If I actually rub on my breastesses when Monch instructs me to during the inevitable performance of “Simon Says,” how can I make sure my mom doesn't find out? Will my heels stay pretty and scuff-free despite being in a room full of dudes in boots? How come Po isn't an Invited Guest? Is there a feud between these 2 gentlemen that you guys have been keeping from me because you knew I'd get upset if I heard about it? And why is the show in Brooklyn of all places?

Snacksandshit.

2. The resurgence of physiognomy is awfully reminiscent of eugenics and phrenology (not the good kind) and this does not have nearly enough people expressing outrage (Slate). Apparently, you know, you can just tell by the looks of a fellow whether he is going to stick you for your Jordans.
(Oh sorry. It’s not ’89. Your Comme des Garcons x Alife x Schnabel x Barbara Kruger dunks.)



Black Thought's code name is The Only One and Cody wants to fertilize another behind his lover's back. This song is full of classified information.

mp3.





3. I’m usually not one to shill for Random House, but I'll do anything for boyfriend #13,521, Tracy Morgan. Until he meets an untimely demise (it’s coming, people), which will mean that my dream of Redman hosting the next VH1 honors show is realized, he’s here to spread good cheer with his e-cards.

“Flirting”

“Recently laid off”

PS, why is this still here? I saw it on my TV recently during a VH1 program about Def Jam records.

I WISH WITH ALL MY HEART THAT IT WOULD EVACUATE THE PREMISES POST HASTE THANK YOU. I want/need/deserve more out of life.

I'd like more of this instead, please.


. .

Coming down fast but I'm miles above you.

“It's taken more than four decades for his words to be vindicated. But for a brief moment this month, John Lennon could rest assured that the Beatles were indeed bigger than Jesus. At least that's what's been suggested by the graph above, which compares Google's search traffic for the terms ‘jesus’ and ‘beatles’ over the last 30 days.

“Admittedly, it's taken a while for the Liverpool band to reach this high point in their career. It was back in March 1966 that the rebellious Beatle first told the Evening Standard: ‘I do not know what will go first, rock'n'roll or Christianity … we're more popular than Jesus now.’ It's fair to say the words didn't go down too well at the time. Across the US, angry Beatlemaniacs burned their Fab Four vinyl in protest, while Lennon was forced to issue a slightly confusing apology: ‘I wasn't saying whatever they're saying I was saying. I'm sorry I said it really. I never meant it to be a lousy anti-religious thing. I apologise if that will make you happy. I still don't know quite what I've done. I've tried to tell you what I did do but if you want me to apologise, if that will make you happy, then OK, I'm sorry.’ ”

(Boosted from The Guardian)



But then I thought How does Jesus compare with other popular things, memes or otherwise? And that's when I proceeded to entertain myself for like 20 minutes.


It turns out Jesus is also less popular than President Dreamboat, jobs, naked ladies, and, of course, the ever-popular ASS! (Sorry, Jesus. Maybe October'll be your month.)




Musical accompaniment -


A hard one, which you probably hear in your head when you see my ass, and which may or may not put you in a trance and make you want to commit some murders with Squeaky Fromme,

“Helter Skelter”

mp3.



A soft one, which gets Top 5 Beatles Songs status and that is not up for debate so please do not email me with your arguments against, thank you,

“You've Got to Hide Your Love Away”

mp3.



And an in-between-soft-and-hard one, from the Revolver sessions, which I saw the Dead open a show with in '93 at Pauly Pavilion, I think? My pop took me; it was raining that night so it was a not-very-clever musical pun that they decided to play this but I loved it so.

“Rain”

mp3.

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H.I. McDunnough speaks on morals.

“There's right, and there's right,
and never the twain shall meet.”

“They got a name for people like you, Hi. That name is called recidivism.”
Um, hello, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be married to a Coen brother. Either one. In 1987.





Asked to explain what makes a movie work, Howard Hawks reportedly defined the formula as

“three good scenes, no bad scenes.”

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Dante & Barry & Russ.

1. I am not so Ecstatic upon seeing Flac present himself in this manner at the CareFusion Jazz Festival 55 over the weekend. However, comment snark below from Crunk & Disorderly totally makes up for it.

“Mos Def looks like the uncle that says he’s going to quit drinking and never does.”


“He got on Jim Brown's good hat.”

“He looks like he straight walked off the set of Jungle Fever as Samuel Jackson’s stand in.”

2. ObamaIsLiterallyHitler.tumblr.com!

Have at it, Tumblr-istas! Repost that one reposter's reposting of that thing he saw on that one post that was boosted from another post! Make um say VIA. All day long.
(uh-oh, cranky lady blogger alert! Nobody wants to see that. Sowwy.)


YOU KNOW WHO ELSE HAD A DOG? HITLER!

DO YOU KNOW WHO ELSE WROTE A BOOK? HITLER!

DO YOU KNOW WHO ELSE LIKED TO PAINT? HITLER!

DO YOU KNOW WHO ELSE HELD BEER SUMMITS?? HITLER!





3. Annnnd I'm thismuchcloser to getting my paws on some Yo! Bum Rush The Show! demos.


When he's alone in his room/sometimes he stares at the wall. Russell is continuing to chop down trees in the skinny-blond-girl forest while the universe keeps the two of us apart for the time being. Romance, sheer delight! How sweet!/He gotta find him a girl to make his life complete.

As we all remember from the Julie Incident of 2009, Russ has this adorable habit of trying to do nakedtimes things with thin, long-haired, Caucasoid lady types. My dues in this club are currently paid; I'm a member in good standing. Since I find it terribly necessary to satisfy my lifelong musicdork wish to meet Uncle Rick and maybe Cey Adams and maybe Rick the Fucking Ruler, and find out from LL where I can get a gold nameplate that says I Wish You Would, I will attempt to meet Russ, successfully navigate my way through the halls of Rush Management, and acquire these things I desire, all while keeping my clothing intact. 'Cause, you know, I don't trick for things I want - even if they're really wonderful music-nerd things I want. Respectable girls are teases, DUH.






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George Carlin, Don Rickles, and Ash Roth.

"You irk me/Because you copy and falsify" - Guru*.

I was making the frowny face reallll hard a couple minutes ago, with a touch of pouty-ness for good measure, because of the dude with the stupid face you see above. Ash Roth is, of course, the bane of my otherwise wonderful life and is the reason for my lack of joy at the present time. The Caucasoid Pride of Morrisville is working on his sophomore album and that makes me say fucking hell and please don't do that,

until I read all about it courtesy of XXL and realized that Ash has quite the sense of humor! This doesn't make him acceptable to me (he's still just behind Cheney and John Wayne Gacy on the Evil List), but it does make me think it's kind of nice that he can do stand-up as a sideline career if his current job of Publicity Whore/Terrible Person Holding a Mic doesn't pan out.

"It seems like the SRC rapper is trying to deliver an old school vibe for his next LP.

'You know I’m really interested in Pete Rock and [DJ] Premier and that New York sound...(said Roth),

I really wanna get in on that.'"

"Har de fuckin har," said Mr. White.

And then Andy said,

And then I was like, HA! GOOD ONE, ASHY! You's a jokester!

OH ASH, I'm way too dope to write "LOL" since I'm not a 12 year old girl but rest assured that I did, in fact, laugh out loud upon seeing your quote about the producers you hope to have in your corner. Your relentless comedy hustle will pay off in the end, champ, I just know it. Hey, I wanna play your joke-y game, too! It's called "Things I Wanna Get in On That Will Never Fucking Happen," right?

I think I know how to play--check my style out:

OK, so I wanna get in on Scott Boras's checking account without having to do naked things with him...oh and I wanna get in on accessing all of Trojan Records' dubplates, and the bike from Pee-Wee's Big Adventure, and Raekwon's old 'Lo sweater...ummm....and I also really really wanna get in on going to a dinner party with President Dreamboat, Basquiat, Kool Keith, Steve Biko, and a bunch of murdered rappers who have come back to life.

That's how this game goes, yes?



Now I shall wrap up the post by reminding nobody's favorite industry interloper that nothing he has his hands in will ever sound this good* so he should probably keep it movin, vacate the premises, and sit the next one out. And the one after that.

wordlife,
I put that on my unborn kids,
that's the double truth, Ruth,
etc,
etc.

* "You'll be dyin, tryin to face the fate of your delusions.
Regards, Guru."

4 things that amuse and delight me (and 1 thing that does not), 07/16/09.

1. Snoop's next album is called Malice in Wonderland. Just ponder the epic heights of pun-ness of that for a moment. OK, you're excused.




2. THIS I cannot stop watching. It puts me in a trance-like state, like those kids in Japan who watched that cartoon, or like that time on The Simpsons when Homer licked the frog.

Is this that "jerkin" thing I hear all the kids talkin about? The Halle Berry? Somebody please help a lady out.




SUMMERTIME in apt. 302!





3. According to your Twitter, How hetero are you?
(They analyze your Twitter stream and then tell you whether you like to sleep with boys or girls)

It appears that my various lesbatronic moments have resulted in me being only three-quarters straight.

Football, beef, and swooning are often things I concern myself with.

4. People I Want To Get Smacked in the Mouth include Drake, Terry Richardson (he'd love it), and Akon. I will not be providing an explanation for this because, you see, an explanation is not necessary.

However, despite not caring for Akon or any of his people he's trying to push on us (French Montana), I do very much care for a Chipmunk'ed-the-fuck-out Don Henley. Music snobbery has no place in my world or on my web log; this song has little-to-no redeeming social value, and I'll hate it in about 48 hours, and it's the hotness in the suburbs, booming from your 14 year old little cousin's iPod, but forget all that for now 'cause it's a 'Kiss summer.


French Montana (what is the opposite of charisma? Whatever that's called, that's what French has) feat. Jadakiss, "New York Minute"






5.

He was short and nice and called me "Bunny," circa summer '00 on E. 7th.
"It's 'cause you're from Cali," he said.

Unfortunately,

Gavin McInnes makes me moan with displeasure by saying this:

"(Dash) said, 'Why are you always reporting on shit and reviewing other people's shit? Why don't you do your own shit?' I couldn't get it out of my head. I still can't. And you shouldn't either."

THIS GUY.
THISSSS. GUY.

You needed Dash to tell you not to be an original-content-lacking biter and swagger jacker?
Did you really? Really?

And you shouldn't either is my favorite part, as it contains the holy trinity of d-bag-ery, stupidity, and pretentiousness in one short statement; so clutch, Gav. I understand that you miss him but please leave the life coach helpful statements out of quotation marks. Bye.

Assorted hip-hop-ery for a Thursday morning

1. When my regular Texas boyfriend Bun B is out of town, I cheat on him with Devin.
(or Scarface)

Anyway, here's another one of those videos that are surprisingly entertaining even though it's just "rapper sitting in room, smoking weed and watching videos and finding everything hilarious." The things is, though, that rapper is Devin the Dude.

Dev's waiting to inhale & just tryin ta live. And it is fascinating. And I could watch this all day. And I probably will. And please don't tell my boss.





2. Joe Budden is the THIS GUY of the last several weeks. While taking a break from cyber-thugging, and in an attempt to sell some units, he makes a Meth diss record. I do not appreciate this. And then Deck's all, "You said mean things about my friend" and makes a song, in turn, disparaging Joe's lady, his rap skills, his appearance, and his inferior record-selling abilities. And then I feel like all is right with the world again. Those Wu gods are so clutch. Swoon.


I don't believe this will end well for Mr. Budden.

Inspectah Deck - House N---a (Joe Budden Diss) 5STARHIPHOP.COM.mp3






3. Go 'head! Best name for a web log I never thought of!

Flaming Garbage Cans in Hip-Hop Videos.

The Cool Kids love Zelda. Kobe loves Luke. I love nuanced bumper stickers.

1. Hey look! Chuck Inglish + Mikey Rocks + a pal dance to the Zelda song! Mag wheels x nerd raps x video game theme song dances: cain't nobody hold you down, Chi City.

OH WAIT. My mistake. The pants aren't tight enough.





2. The Onion: Kobe Bryant Proves He Can Win Championship With Luke Walton On Team. In other news, if you're a writer for The Onion, call me cuz I have a crush on you.

"'I was so sick of hearing people say how I couldn't do it with Luke out there,' said Bryant, acknowledging that his teammate's deficiencies have overshadowed the Lakers since Walton was drafted in 2003. 'It gets annoying to hear that question over and over, but you can't argue it. You can't deny it. You have to show that you can prevail alongside one of the worst small forwards in the game.'

'Now I just want to kick back and savor the moment,' Bryant added. 'I feel like a huge 6-foot-8, 235-pound burden has been lifted from my back.'

Bryant, who averaged 32.4 points a game and was named MVP of the NBA Finals, played with a fiery determination and lifted his Walton-compensation skills to an almost superhuman level, ultimately erasing any doubt that he was capable of greatness while playing alongside Walton.

'We were able to prove all the doubters wrong because we had an excellent game plan that we executed at the highest level,' said Bryant, who verified before each play that his teammates knew their assignments and were prepared to shut down Walton's dominating awkwardness in the paint. 'It was physically draining to limit Luke's missed scoring opportunities, but that's what it takes to win.'"

3. "Nuanced, Ambivalent, or Guarded" Bumper Stickers for connoisseurs of corny automobile-decoration humor such as myself.