October 31, 2004 (2) Comments

NOTICE: Lest anyone else confuse the origin of the word "binoculars" and attribute it to persons of lesser slanguistic dexterity, let it be known that I am ground zero binoculars. I birthed it naturally; it is the product of a union between my masterful West Coast Valley Girl Intelligentsia speak with newfound East Coast 6 am smoove. Clock me at 100, putas.

FEMINISTING: Remy Ma is flexing feminist basics in the Chingy episode of XXL, including the following passage on admiring Queen Latifah's artistic versatility:

"RM: "...I was just so impressed, because she went from hip-hop to an Oscar nomination."

INTERVIEWER: That's bugged.

RM: "Why is that bugged?" Remy cops a quick attitude. "Because she's a woman? Nobody ever says it's bugged when Ice Cube is doing his Hollywood thing. Because he's a guy, is that why it's not bugged?.... It's not your fault you believe that, it's society that makes men think they rule the world."

It's always somewhat encouraging when wave-2 politickin' wedges itself betwixt apple bottom ads and groupie luv in stripper bathing suits, especially coming from someone as respected as Remy.

DRAMA: I don't need to tell you about R Kelly's nervous breakdown at Madison Square Garden. This, after his own Mariah-with-the-hot-dog-cart. It's an episode of Passions and because it's the masked marauder, I relish every second.

SCENARIO: a man wearing a black tie emblazoned with white treble clefs, accompanied by a shitty battery-generated AIWA stereo in a shopping cart, blasting Aerosmith's "Without You" at 4 am in Chelsea. During the climactic breakdown, when S. Tyler wails his pain, tie dude hurls a full 40-oz of MGD into the street, and it shatters at the exact moment of the drum solo, for some karaoke-video retribution, for his musically busted heart.

REVIEW: The movie Saw is A. not scary and B. scripted on day three of a coke binge.

NOW PLAYING: The Beauty Pill, The Unsustainable Lifestyle. V/A, Lif Up Yuh Leg an Trample. Nice Nice, Yesssss. Isis, Panopticon.

***ALBANY COUNTY DA RACE: If you happen to be voting in Albany County, NY. David Soares, the DA candidate for whom I've done some volunteer work (gracias to Mizzes E. Mendez Berry and A. Solomon), is running on the platform of Rockefeller drug laws reform; this is important especially because the Albany county DA affects what goes on in the capital and across the state--and the RDLs result in hard time for first-time drug offenders, often garnering them longer sentences than murderers and rapists. This site has lots of info.

October 29, 2004 (0) Comments

Aside from Carson Daly's stylist, the D12, and Eminem's half-assedly lip-synced performance at the Shady National Convention last night, not much. Oh, you know, the usj... Busta had mouth surgery, Donald Trump delivered a speech, 50 performed "In Da Club," Eminem scratched his eye with the mic hand mid-verse--and miraculously, the rap track soldiered on. More on that in a minute after I--oops, did Bono just reach for my spinach empanada? How's the cowboy hat, hombre? Why do I feel like I'm at industry convention-meets-Sadie Hawkins dance, and Em's a begrudging hired hand?

I just wanted to administer love to Obie Trice, and to thank Sirius radio for the niblets. I will tell everyone I know to tune into Shady's station--at least everyone I know who has satellite radio access--which at this point encompasses my dad only.

Dad! Shade 45! What!!

Also, I have it on good authority that the only person in the US who willingly purchased the slot machine trainers est belonging to le Purple City.

You are surprised?

October 26, 2004 (2) Comments

Grazie Crunky for sending Eminem's "Mosh" video. Watch it. It's the most important thing he'll ever do.

A different link here, in case the other doesn't work.

October 24, 2004 (0) Comments

"America! Fuck Yeah!"

These are the lyrics to one of the three funniest songs in Team America, from a beefy WWE halftime-type of number you can imagine being sung by Vin Diesel or some other GNC nutrition powder poster-man . . . a little steroidal, with a pectoral posse chorus, Flying V's wailing the solo after a real hefty pump on the stomp box. The song is cued every time a puppet-sized, red-white-and-blue fighter jet shoots from the top of Teddy Roosevelt's head at Mount Rushmore, which houses the not-so-secret HQ of Team America. It is the most honest commercial the US Air Force never made.

Team America is a crew of the nation's best--best football star, best clairvoyant, best actor, best psychologist--with a mission to fight terrorism across the globe, bumbling and armed, shooting anything that moves to defend their nebulous, clumsily righteous conceptions of "democracy" and "freedom." The movie's political viewpoint is ambiguous; the reportedly Libertarian/Republican directors, Matt Stone and Trey Parker, skewer Michael Moore and the progressive, outspoken members of the Screen Actors Guild (referred to as the "Film Actors Guild" for an easy "FAG" joke that was old before it started), portraying them as crazed and easily persuaded jihad-friendly communists. But Team America, as the protagonists, are equally idiotic (the jokes are misanthropic and sometimes racist; their portrayal of Kim Jung Il is deeply, DEEPLY unfunny). Their vague moral center and cavemannish humor is why the clearest swipes it takes, its satirical high points and its sharpest zeitgeist, come via its best songs. In the lost-girl lament "Pearl Harbor Sucked... and I Miss You," the love doesn't get much beyond plasticene, but it does parallel the feeling of being w/out u girl with the directors' intense hatred of the movie Pearl Harbor. "I miss you, girl, like Ben Affleck needs acting lessons," the main character sings, his puppet-motorcycle revving into the moonlight. "Freedom isn't Free," the essential conservative-country rouser, twangs in an exaggerated Toby Keith style, that "Freedom isn't free," because "freedom is really fucking expensive." Clearly! There are other musical numbers –- notably, the song parodying '90s B-Way standard Rent goes maniacally, "Everyone's got AIDS! AIDS AIDS AIDS!" -- but these three are just perfect; Stone and Parker are acutely aware of hovering over the top, the sentiment just one tiny sliver beyond bona fide American jingoism.

Tomorrow I will post on Hearts and Minds, when I am mildly less depressed from it.

Today I will post on Usher Raymond; who, according to Gawker according to NYDN, has filmed a sex tape w/two ladies, one of whom whimpers "Ush" to the tune of "Waterfalls" by TLC. I never tire of the fact that Usher, incredibly, proposed to TLC singer Chilli MID. COITUS (so sayeth the greatest interview Rolling Stone magazine published this year, the gargantuan "Usher is a megalomaniacal freek-a-leek" piece). I would kill to be Usher's shrink.

In other news of narcissists, I heard on 97 this morn that all November dates of the Jay-Z/R. Kelly Best of Both Worlds tour are canceled; apparently, Jay has grown weary of R.'s lack of punctuality. I cannot provide more details because it was at like, 7:30 am and I was half-asleep.

October 22, 2004 (0) Comments

Je suis trop fatigue, from last night, to post anything substantial at this present moment in time -- tired from Bibliomanica's party, where I got my body jacked (my mind thowed?) by catchdubs and c. ryan-billups and Crunktruculent's big beeyootiful jawns. But today Ezra, smart Ezra, sent me an email of such nice cadence, I wanted to share:

"Big ass snack bags of Rap Snacks. Shockingly, none of them are vegan. I'm holding out for Dead Prez Rap Snacks. Falafel BBQ flavor."

October 20, 2004 (1) Comments

WHEREIN an accidental editing faux pas at a major alt-weekly has resulted in a description of Anthony Hamilton, under my byline, as
"MMM... complete man."
I didn't write it, but I was thinking it.

WHEREIN I have shed that unclean Jim Jones feeling (retarded, aggro, can't get signed to the Roc) and have taken up an entirely more serene celebrity state-of-being: The Incredible Lightness of Britney.

WHEREIN the most pleasurable function of my employment, by far, demands I download back-catalogue, like Splack Pack & Kidd Money's Big Booty Hits (lemme hear you say scrrruuub da ground!), Satoko Fujii Quartet's Minerva (my entire piano-playing existence has been a feeble attempt to copy Satoko Fujii's whirlybird tone blocks and trigonometrical rhythms), and Various Artists: A Tribute to the Cure: 1000 Tears (Cleopatra Records), which I actually purchased on CD when it came out, and from which Kill Switch Klick, Electric Hellfire Club, Bell Book & Candle, Wreckage or any number of its contributors would today be signed to a low five-figure deal with Astralwerks, or at least have been put on the bill with ARE Weapons and Bloc Party (who are binoculars*--but as Crunkcchanalia put it, "wrong band wrong place wrong time").

* bazonkers + ridonculous = "binoculars." Catchdubs, watch out; I'm right behind thee!

October 19, 2004 (1) Comments

I've something else to bitcherate: is it truly necessary for the 2004-2005 NBA season to begin on Election Day?! With a Rockets-Pistons game?! If my paranoia were more acute, I'd formulate a The Last Thing He Wanted-style conspiracy theory on this particular clusterfx of poor planning, beginning with Florida voting booths, hanky-panky in the fiber-optics room, and a murdered city councilperson's missing electric typewriter, whose ribbons contain coordinates--latitudes and longitudes--which lead to the discovery of a shadowy partnership between David Stern, Bear Stearns, and Chingy; their common interest in the outcome of Rip Hamilton's retired headgear (/disguise?); and their tenuously related plan to launder money through both the Missouri State Lottery and Harrah's Riverboat Casinos (a plan eventually diverted by a CIA agent -- working swiftly and undercover as a four-alarm chili chef at the St. Louis BBQ fest -- and the missing sax player from the Zydeco Crawdaddys). You wouldn't have heard about it, though, because it would've been covered up in the newsmedia by a series of strategically reported scandals, like, say the one about the president and the cigar, or for the right-wingers, maybe the putrid major network pundit indicted for sexual harrassment.

If the Pistons and Kerry triumph over Texas in one evening, I will eat the rubber strap off Rip's sweaty old goggles, clean out Dave Navarro's nosehair clippers and wear the same white Nike I-D Zoom Rival S Pluses every day for a year. (BTW. MEMO to Nike I-D. Do cross-country runners really care about custom mauve swooshes and yellow soles and goldenrod stitching? Really? Those colors will run by the second muddy park-sprint. What I'm saying is, where art thou "lifestyle" jams? What I'm saying is, CAN I GET A DUNK ONE TIME? What I'm saying is, Wieden + Kennedy homies, can you put in a word for your loyal bloggist-chica on the custom shoe request? That we may custom-design an attractive shoe, one that does not resemble a Volvo, Q-Bert's sproing, or the night-slipper of a Storm Trooper?)

October 18, 2004 (1) Comments

Great interview with Immortal Technique at Latinrapper.com. A little sample:

"Certain rap artists have stated that they wouldn't vote in the presidential election because they feel neither political party has the interests of minorities in mind. What's your take??

IT: The greediest most money grubbing people I ever met in my life were corporate conservative leeches. And these are the people that are digging into their pockets to give the Bush Cheney campaign non tax refundable money. They are giving them money because they know that your vote counts, they care more about their money than they care about life, and they are willing to invest in us, in getting our vote by buying adds, propaganda and such. If they believe in our vote then why shouldn't we. Let us become our own voting block, and build the type of respect and power that the lobbyists for the bible belt of white America have. People will not listen to Black and Latino people until we make them listen, our votes will make them listen, and I know we tried that last year but Revolution isn't fought on one battle field, I think every hardcore anarchist can take 15 minutes out of their schedule in early Nov. and try to get rid of emperor Bush."

In lighter news, Ultragrrrl has finally topped herself. This girl makes the stratosphere whimper.

October 18, 2004 (1) Comments

From the Miami bass list:

"Date: Sun, 17 Oct 2004 14:02:49 -0000
From: "Kenny G"
Subject: TRINA NEEDS A HIT

HELLO MY PEOPLE, THIS IS YA BOY KENNY G, FROM THE ONE AND ONLY "GET
SOME CREW", I ALWAYS WANTED TO START A LETTER OFF LIKE THAT, LOL. ANY WAY I TALKED TO TRINA'S PEOPLE AND THEY ARE LOOKING FOR A BASS HIT FOR HER, SHE NEEDS IT BAD AND SOON, SOMETHING LIKE PULL OVER OR JUST A GOOD BASS GIRLY SONG, SO HERE'S WHAT YA NEED TO DO.

THEY WANT YOU TO GO TO THE STUDIO RECORD THE HOOK, YOU CAN WRITE THE
RAPS, BUT RECORD THE INSTUMENTAL, THE VERSE WITH JUST THE HOOK, AND A
VERSE WITH THE HOOK AND RAPS, OK SO THE 3 VERSES, OF THE SAME SONG ON 1 CD,THE INST,THE HOOKS,AND THE WHOLE SONG WITH HOOK AND RAPS,
SHE GOT CAUGHT UP IN THE HIP HOP STUFF AND TRYING TO COME BACK THE
WHAT MADE HER WHO SHE IS, WHICH IS A GOOD THING,OK NOW THIS IS HOW IT
WORKS, THEY WANT TO HEAR IT OF COURSE,(IF THEY LIKE IT) THEN SHE WILL
GO IN THE STUDIO AND RECORD HER VOCALS ON IT, THEN THEY HAVE TO SEND
IT TO ATLANTIC, IF THEY SAYS ITS A GOOD SONG, ATLANTIC WILL PAY YOU
FOR THE SONG,BUT THEY WILL NEED ALL YOUR INFO. SO HALLA BACK.WHO EVER
IS INTERESTED HIT ME UP ON MY EMAIL. THANKS"

October 17, 2004 (0) Comments

1. Ezra and I, chilly, sitting in Roosevelt Park among leaves, drinking coffee and reminiscing about the past. Watching some teenagers shoot hoops, when a bus pulled up to the light and some other kids, whose faces we could only see half from the bus windows, leaned out and shouted meanly to the boys on the court. And I screamed "cowards" and they said "fuck you four eyes" and the light went green and they drove away. And the basketball kids didn't notice any of it or acted like they didn't; just kept hitting shots, dunks making tings echo on the naked rim, held taut to the backboard by filthy strands of duct tape.

2. Spitting sad-style in the bodega so Cali, Canadian and full of love, said, "buy a scratch ticket." so we bought one and won four dollars, so Cali used the money to buy four more and said "if it doesn't win, throw it on the ground" and we propped ourselves against the concrete, scratching furiously and yelling at the tickets but still we lost, and then we lost again, until we'd lost four times. so we threw it on the ground.

3. "From: Steven Lankenau
To: Julianne Shepherd
Sent: Mon 10/18/2004
Subject: RE: Do you like our new painting?

I would have prefered if G-unit had not entered our house, but I respect your right to accessorize the kitchen."

October 14, 2004 (3) Comments

Teedra Moses is a sweet potato: a blithe, slight, pretty New Orleans tweeter, so the one song we saw lacked the brass punch it needed to be a real Southern raw diva woofer-banger. It was the Lil' Jon produced track from her album, "You Better Tell Her," which wags to a wayward lover, "Daddy, I'm too cute to fight... you betta get that bitch told tonight." On record, especially with her sunlight voice, it rumbles with the monition of a nasty catfight, as though she's little but ready to pull some hair; Jon's beats encroach and pop like a back-up gang gunning for a shakedown. On the bridge the band, Black Moses (no relation to Blood of Abraham or Isaac Hayes), played the melody from Juvenile's terrible hit "Slow Motion," and Teedra managed a less-feeble quasi-rap of "Tell that bitch tonight!" She needed the confidence of a jeep and a posse to convince us of the song's threat, but what she brought were manners.

Her other songs probably fared better with her junior miss Louisiana shine, since they are about love, love, love and love; but in a rare plot twist, the show actually started on time, and we didn't. Even stranger: it started on time and was hosted by a radio station, whose promise of beer-cozy giveaways and overwrought one-liners meant we bounced before Cee-lo could regale us with his mucky soul machinations. (Although I will point you to someone who liked Is the Soul Machine: one of my top five favorite music critics ever, Mark Anthony Neal, who not only throws up crazy wildstyle, but whose writing speaks with greater import and resonance to society at large. Last week, my friend, a music-critic-turned-fulltime-activist, said to me, "The world is falling apart; I'm just not that concerned with the new Lloyd Banks single." Mark Anthony Neal's criticism pulls double-shifts, shows in a deep and true way how music is the answer to a human equation.

October 13, 2004 (1) Comments

Tonight is the humble kick-off of College Music Journal business-cardxtravaganza, but where you'll see me is BB Kings, with Hua's and my sweet New Orleans roundtheway girl who believes-in-love and too-cute-to-fight, Ms. Teedra Moses. Full report in the AM. On how she gets me like I'm 16. In the '90s. Totally listened to Mint Condition yesterday. Mint Condition, J-Zone, Travis Morrison and the Headhunters (that's what his new band's like! But less ocarina. P.S. Ludacris "Whats yr Fantasy" cover is disarmingly good with full band when T raps it: not on some folksy spokenword at the kaffeeklatsch steelo, but in some true-grit Southern-sweat 'bout-to-fuck stylee), and the Ghetto Brothers -- all in heavy ro in the J.Shep J.Ho BK crafting HQ.

Yesterday's and today's OCD viewing pleasure: "Drop it Like It's Hot" video. Paul Hunter, a genius when cooking with signifiers, captures the cool of Pharrell and Snoop and practically brands it, in satin black and white. Video dancing just keeps getting smaller and smaller, which is somewhat congruous to theater dancing; pretty soon all we'll see is eagle drops and nose twitching. It's nice, but in a year or so, it'll be all flygirl rosie perez arm flailing and hammer pants again, a moment which I shall relish: it's easier to choreograph when trend dictates big motion and pause-flash poses.

If anyone needs the script for Honey adapted into a young adult novel, I am the only person who can do it.

Much love to all the people checking CnP from work. What up US Dept of Justice, word to Bloomberg Financial, hola Methanex, and Disney Worldwide--holla!

October 11, 2004 (1) Comments

America's opinions will be hijacked by Bush supporters. Sign a petition, join a boycott.

Viacom, too.

October 11, 2004 (0) Comments

And since Jessica floated down on the sparkly unicorn like Glinda the good witch, crafting is what we've done. We are making surprises with our hands; the living room is a wastepile of glue guns, dirt, newspapers, fabric paint, mod podge; bolts of copper ribbon unfurl and snake daintily around cut strips of paper and sharpies. It looks like we are artists, squatting. My project is a secret, but it's spectacular, and involves handstyled olde english letters, which I learnt from my 17-year-old cousin who is running a tattoo parlour out of his mom's basement to earn money for a lowrider bike. Jessica is mod-podging the ugly lamp with chartreuse glitter, so when the light bulb's on, it shines upwards. I don't think anyone taught her to mod-podge, she just knew it innately. After we make a fake T-bone, we're tying mini plastic dogs to the lampshade in a circle, so it looks like they're chasing after the steak.

The point: anyone with a line on making a realistic-looking steak, let us know. I suggested shellacking an actual slab of beef, but J.Hova said that was gross.

October 11, 2004 (1) Comments

Commenters:
If you want to rumble or register beef: 1. leave your actual email, or I will delete your chicken ass 2. especially if you're making uninformed, non sequitur, ill-conceived attacks on my race, creed, and/or personal life, of which you know naught.

back to crafting!
MGMT.

October 5, 2004 (0) Comments

Now look at this. The feminism fairy has delivered my inbox a surprise!

October 5, 2004 (0) Comments

Dick Cheney, harbinger of war, is the consummate patriarch: impenetrable, inarguable, in extreme authoritative tone. He's all lies and taglines; the language is so rigid and fake-knowledgeable and the phrasing shuts out debate. He speaks with the condescending, firm voice of someone who has never been told he is wrong. He is very much of a pre-feminist era. Wyoming, for that matter —the "equality state," where women were first granted the right to vote—is still a pre-feminist state, where the old constructs exist in blunt forms from playground to workforce. Always the tug and tow. With Cheney, Laura Bush, GW, as heads of state, as representatives and as roles—the psychic and cultural and even etymological effects the Bush Admin. has had on America may be as dangerous as the social and governmental ones. Related: I feel very much like feminism as a presence has been re-marginalized in the collective psyche. I've been reading important second-wave works—the vital proto-feminist ideation in Dworkin's Our Blood and the mid-'70s American hetero gender-psychology in Dorothy Dinnerstein's the Mermaid and the Minotaur: Sexual Arrangements and Human Malaise—and I wonder, what does it take for these books to cease being relevant? When will we be able to view them, bemused, as relics of another time? Will it take Cheney Freaky Friday-ing into the body of a 14-year-old girl for just one minute — for him to feel obliged to shush every thought and surpress every instinct — to know what it's like to be amputated at the outset? He brought up Ob-Gyns in the debate. Can we send him into the waiting room of a Planned Parenthood on an open walk-in day, so he can see the frantic and beleageured throngs of women hoping for their pills or their yearlies; hoping just to land on the patient list for the day, much less hit the low-end of the sliding scale? Can we get Cheney up in the Planned Parenthood one time, so he can see that to be female, over 18 and childless makes a woman not just a social anomaly, but a freak of nature? And that to be female, have children and be reliably partnered is even freakier?

October 5, 2004 (0) Comments

Chauncey Billups' silence, explained. It's not the off-season; VH-1 annexed his chops. He scribed the page, but did he choose The Real Roxanne photo? And where can I get earrings the size of a chihuahua?

October 5, 2004 (0) Comments

Vice presidential debate tonight, 9 pm Eastern. Also broadcast on npr.org.

The New Yorker Festival panel at the NY Public Library: I forgot to mention. The panel was "Political Rockers," moderated by Sasha, and featuring KRS-One, Henry Rollins, and Krist Novoselic, former bass player of Nirvana; Carrie Brownstein of Sleater-Kinney was also scheduled, but she cancelled at the last minute, shrinking the panel demographic to three dudes of roughly the same age and era. (Her track record isn't exactly scorching: this is the second panel I know of that Carrie Brownstein has punked out on, the first being the EMP Pop Conference. Carrie Brownstein, step your scheduled-attendance game up.)

So, we had three men who've all made political music in some capacity, but the discussion ended up being largely about politics only. This was, in part, courtesy Krist Novoselic, who has written a book I probably won't read entitled Of Grunge and Government: Let's fix our broken democracy! Its title is representative of Krist's public-speaking style, all whingo-bingo taglines and inflatable exclamation points, as though he is bent on windbagging his way to a city council seat — the quicker fixer-upper. This was punctuated every four seconds by his declarations that "WE are a DEMOCRACY in CRISIS!" As evidence, he invoked the Teen Dance Ordinance — the law in Seattle that made all-ages shows virtually unhaveable, now overturned.

Meanwhile, KRS-One invoked the Temple only once. Instead — after noting he used to sleep in the NY public library when he was homeless in the late '70s — he explained his belief that there is no democracy. He described growing up in the Bronx in the '80s, when off-duty cops regularly sold him and his friends a wide array of military-grade machine guns. Uzis. He described a day-to-day, very immediate type of crisis, growing up in a place that ached with every cut the Reagan administration made. In his place, when the government announced they were cutting funding to parks; the next day, the Parks and Rec trucks rolled up and snatched away the rubber mats from the public playground. That kind of democratic crisis. So when KRS said he's not voting, you could see where he was coming from (that was his point), even though his logic was cracked — he explained that voting in this election lends legitimacy to a system that never worked for him in the first place.

I get it. I empathize. But voting for Kerry now is as important to America as a tourniquet on a deep cut. It's an emergency buoy — an effort to stop the bleeding while we prep the O.R.

Krist, for his part, soldiered on, arguing about the democracy in crisis, heating up and essentially stating that increased voter participation will eliminate every problem in America. As though if we all stand up to be counted, the scales of injustice will magically right themselves, and we all will be counted. Krist was also railing against what he sees as cynicism across America — cynicism towards voting — but it feels like a naive stance, the kind of stance that can imply a lack of struggle (or at the very least, a lack of Howard Zinn). I don't know about Krist's life, though, and probably won't ever — I'm really not trying to read his book. Either way, he sounded myopic. I still feel cynical. But I'm voting. Absentee. In Oregon. A swing state.

Henry Rollins was amazing. Sasha asked great questions, including [paraphrased], "Did any of the soldiers in Iraq you spoke to have Black Flag tattoos?"* (Answer: "No.") (Not Sasha's most piercing question, obviously, but an unscripted one I liked.) My lottery date cracked some good one-liners, which is one reason why you should buy his book. KRS-One is far, far saner than most rap magazines would have you believe. And anyway, what's sane about an Uzi?

ADDENDUM 10/13/04: Yes, KRS made the comments about 9/11, they were taken out of context in the news pieces, and I think he was doing it partly to be reactionary. OR he IS crazy as all the rap magazines would have you believe. But while I disagree with him (and think it's a grave oversight to ignore the fact that most of the people who perished in the twin towers were working class), it'd also be an oversight to simply dismiss him as crazy, because he's not the only American with that opinion. Like Jadakiss says: "Why?"

October 3, 2004 (2) Comments

Caffeine at 4 am when everyone else is "four whiskeys to the wind," as the b-day bwoy self-described. Downstairs neighbors blasting "Touch Me" by the Doors. It is 4:58 am. It is unbearable.

Think about this: when dudes are out there out-alpha-male-ing each other, clutching desperately at the final seconds before clownhood is no longer satisfying, our hero is at home, minding his offspring. Pureeing carrots or some shit. To this, I pose but one question: Who's gangsta now?

October 1, 2004 (0) Comments

Deerhoof puts live alb on website. Freegan! Deerhoof, please accept this offering of love. You are like a porcupine box filled with a satin pillow. You are like opening a series of doors that get smaller and smaller and finding a single red hot in the end. You are like riding a centaur into a field of violets. You are sinewy and sweet, mountainous and miniscule and strong and are carrying a staff of light that splices the air into fragrance.

Panda! Panda! Panda! Pan-da!