I’ve got two treasures in my handbag tonight. The first one, Felipe tossed to me just before I left the office: Cocaine City 12 DVD starring Jada, Styles, Yayo, French Montana and Max B, and et cetera. He was like, “This is for you,” so casj, and he had another copy on his desk so I didn’t feel bad taking it like I did his other Max B DVD, which I still have not returned. SORRY, FLIP-TASMO!
The second treasure came in the mail. It is the deluxe, enhanced, anniversary, 20,000-page mondo mega jam box set of Pearl Jam’s Ten. I loved this album when I was a wee chile-the image of Eddie Vedder on MTV unplugged singing with the arm-Sharpied words “PRO CHOICE” resounds with my then-budding feminist self-but I’m not sure if my love of these tracks comes from being a rural teen desperate to hear any song that was vaguely interesting or if it is actually a great album or if it’s cause my first real boyfriend, Jeff Chavez, god love you wherever your ungoogleable ass may be, listened to it constantly when we were youths falling in baby-love, my baby-love.
Hence: I am now LIVEBLOGGING PEARL JAM’S “Ten” as an ADULT.
1. Once.
This song is opening on some stoner drum rhythm then starts guitar-jamming. Eddie Vedder sounds like he has been smoking 40 packs of cigarettes and has a Rambo artillery belt strapped to his thrifted army vest. The chorus is a melodic hook, which is obviously why they got mega famous/retained their fame til now/forever. Eddie is singing “Once… upon a time… I could control myself…/… love myself/…” is he singing about Viagra? I guess it wasn’t invented then, so no. Mucho angst.
2. Even Flow
Was this not the jam? Did this always make you think of tampon commercials? Cause it always has for me. “Thoughts arrive like butterflies” is a stupid lyric but I remember thinking it was profound in jr high. The conclusion, “he don’t know, so he chases them away/someday yet/he’ll begin his life again” makes more sense to me now. This is metaphor dudes! AVOID EVIL TENDENCIES… IF YOU DARE TO BE AN AUTOMATON. Live life everyone! Embrace yr heavy flow. Not into the several grunge guitar solos, still into the melody of the vocal hook. I like how Vedder sounds like he smoked a million cigs but is still innocent.
3. Alive
Wait no this was the jam. Right? I honestly don’t think I can accurately evaluate this with the distance of time because I’m pretty sure I’ve seen 20,000 people karaoke this song since the ’90s. Shit is too long. Next.
[sidebar: My roommates are DEFINITELY getting skeptical at my loud song choices right now]
4. Why Go
Opening is very spaghetti western soundtracky in its drums and bassline. EdVed still sounds like the Marlboro Man. He just sang about a girl who was committed and “diagnosed by some stupid fuck”-clearly because she was an eccentric in some way in her community and was exiled, which now reminds me why it made sense back then. The outcast vibe is deep. Also: spelling outcast without a K feels weird.
5. Black.
You know, this song is beautiful. They should have kept the acoustic flangey guitar from the beginning on for the entire time, but when Vedder is not trying to clear his throat, which is most of this song (most), the prettiness and sentiment comes through. Vedder’s Marlboro is working for him. Yo but is this about sex or about this dude killing someone??
6. Jeremy
Oh yeah, THIS was the jam. The intro is fairly epic with the gongy percussion.Then it’s a song about school suicide, written before Columbine, and we all kinda got it cause we hated our lives. VEDDER! YOU’RE A DARK DUDE!
7. Oceans
I can’t objectively listen to this one cause me and said Jeff boyf from 1776 were in separate cities and the whole OCEANS DISTANCE THOUGHT idea was mega importante, but I will say these guitarists did a great job of guitar-interpreting the ocean sound. Next up: baby seals
8. Porch
Speed grunge. I hate this song.
9. Garden
Hello dudes who are loving Led Zepplin! I skipped this song so we could listen to Nevermind, metal stoners. Also this guitar solo SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKSSS. Am I torturing myself? Was I that in love with Jeff Chavez in my teens? SO glad I’m old now.
10. Deep
MORE GUITAR SOLOS. SKIPPING. SORRY DUDES.
11. Release
This song is like my yoga teacher, who is rad thru the class then makes everyone lie down for 15 minutes at the end and do the three OHMs. No one is into it but we feel like we have to do it for closure.
[BONUS ROUND: the whole time I just wanted to listen to the outtakes from the Singles soundtrack. LIVEBLOG: PEARL JAM songs from SINGLES SOUNDTRACK!]
1. Porch
I loved this track from the Singles stck cause IT HAD A HOOK and DUDE WAS NOT TRYING TOO HARD. Also, harmonies. NO IDEA what the words are. Who cares. At this point my favorite singer was [and stays] Mariah Carey.
2. State of Love and Trust
It’s fast, hooky and I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT DUDE IS SaYING. Still, the hook. Why did they put the most melodic songs on soundtracks? Pearl Jam I understand the antagonism but Nirvana had HHOOOOOOKKKKS in the ’90s. Why were you such dorks?
Assessment: THEY WERE OK IN JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL. JEFF CHAVEZ HOPE YR AWESOME. GLAD I GOT THIS SHIT FOR FREE IN THE MAIL.

I have finally made the Urban Outfitters blog. I want for nothing more in this life.

I am currently really into the Kanye West Lionel Ritchie mullet. I know that everyone thinks it looks ridiculous and I’m completely aware that it, in fact, does, but this is why I like it: Kanye genuinely thinks it looks fresh because it fits into his particular aesthetic. He thinks everything he does is fresh. Anyone who can rock a near-jheri mullet and still maintain an element of swagger with NO self-consciousness whatsoever is kind of a genius to me. (A counterpart that comes to mind is Trouble Andrew, who pulls off his ballstacular personal style with a certain sense of irony that makes him seem not cool but, in fact, like the triple-crown winner of Mr. Douche Universe [2007, 2008 and 2009]. The key to not looking like a shithead is the utter guilelessness with which this look is pulled off. Also: epic personal hygiene.)
But this funny post actually had me questioning my assumed origin of the look: to me, this shit is 100% Lionel Ritchie “Hello” video, but Hey Bunny mentions 1986 El DeBarge. So I’m kind of wondering: where do you think Kanye got his hairdeas from?
Exhibit A. LIONEL RITCHIE “HELLO” VIDEO

Exhibit B. “RHYTHM OF THE NIGHT” ERA EL DEBARGE.

Exhibit C. MICHAEL JACKSON c. “BAD”

Exhibit D. TED DANSON AND THE CAST OF “CHEERS”


Exhibit E. PRINCE IN “PURPLE RAIN”

Congratulations, friends. Love you guys.

The Dillon Panthers are hotter than the Steelers or the Cardinals.
1:47. Wait, the fucking Superbowl doesn’t start til 6? I thought it started at 2? What is the point of having a football game at night?
So Mo and I are gonna watch this thing together and eat the rest of my mom’s xmas enchiladas in some wacky semblance of tradition. To give you an idea of what you’re dealing with: Mo placed a monetary bet on the Pittsburg Steelers because “it’s not the time for GOP states to win.” I personally feel an affinity for the Steelers because they are East Coast and part of the rust belt and Arizona is a stupid state (IT’S TECHNICALLY MEXICO!), but I reserve my right to change my mind at any time depending on which team has hotter players.
4:11. Our cable went out. HOW IS TIME WARNER GONNA HAVE CABLE OUTAGES IN BROOKLYN ON SUPERBOWL SUNDAY? And the dude can’t come fix it til tomorow between 2-6pm. Maud, Sean and Brendan all said I could come over and watch it at the house, so liveblog is on–crisis averted. I’m going to Brendan’s because he lives closest and we were supposed to hang out anyway, and he HATES football so will provide the best company in which to liveblog it (i.e. no untainted viewpoints, actual knowledge of game).
4:41. Movin slow, will take me 15 mins to walk to Brendan’s… is it generally frowned upon to miss the kickoff?
(5.32. Answer from Ben Detrick, via Twitter: “keep your scenester cred intact: arrive in the 2nd quarter and loudly announce that you’re rooting for the team named after “the bird.””)
6:28. Missed kickoff but Brendan Tivo’d. Who is this blonde chick? Why does she have a Taylor Swift dye job? Why is she wearing the same boots I am wearing? Do I feel patriotic? Who are these balding old dudes commentating? Brendan and Sam just had to explain to me why betting on the Cardinals is “hip and trendy,” as the dudes said it was. How is anything associated with football “hip”? Unless it is Friday night lights?
Steelers theme song sounds like a third-tier beat tape sent to the FADER office.
Cardinals theme song sounds like … wait never mind number 57 on the Steelers is kind of hot.
6:33. It’s Faith Hill. So when I saw her in concert she had brown hair and was wearing sneakers and opening up for her husband Tim McGraw at Madison Square Garden. She is dragging out the notes like she is singing at a wedding.
Cardinals 11 is kinda cute too. I think that’s the maje dude on the come up. I read the paper.
6:37. J Hud is gorg and killing it. Didn’t we just hear this song? What America song did Faith Hill sing?
I ask: Why do football players wear that black shit on their eyes? Top two guesses from Brendan and Sam:
2. To keep sweat from getting in their eyes.
1. Something to do with sweat.
6:40. POMP AND CIRCUMSTANCE. WHO CAN WE GET TO EMPHASIZE THIS IS A BIG DEAL?: Thunderbirds, two national anthems, fireworks, the crew of the crashed flight, John Elway, General Patreus, the cast and crew of Lost, three roadies from the 1989 Guns N Roses tour, Ross Perot, Carla Bruni. Yes it is a VERY BIG FUCKING DEAL.
6:41. Kickoff happened and that big dude ran the ball down the field. I’m not sure who is winning.
6:42. The announcer said something about “penetration” and Sam said “PAUSE!” Sam and Brendan have abandoned the living room and are in their dining room talking about where to put more shelving units. I am on the couch watching the game. I feel so manly. “WHERE IS THE BALL WHEN THE KNEE IS DOWN? OUR TECHNOLOGY WITH THESE MOVING PICTURES IS EXTREMELY FIRST WORLD! WE CAN PAUSE IMAGES AND FAST FOWARD!”
6:54. Are there any vegetarian football players? They all look like the eat a lot of steak. Also: none of these dudes are hot. It’s not like the NBA where there’s like 99 dudes who could get it. Brendan: “Maybe football players just aren’t your type.”
6:57. I am rooting for the Pittsburg Steelers, and that one dude on the Cardinals named Deuce.
7:00. There are so many longhairs in football! When did this happen? I thought football was supposed to be American!
7:06. Chike Okeafor of the AZs is hot.
7:23. Why is all NFL commentator language TOTALLY pause-worthy?
7:26. FASTBREAK. We are discussing how kinda insane it is that Erykah Badu twittered the birth of her child. Me: “Please god don’t let me twitter the birth of my baby, if twitter still exists.” Brendan: “You’re not even gonna have to twitter, you’re just going to have to speak and it will go onto the internet.”
7:39. The Superbowl has convinced Sam to move to Tampa Bay. We just went on a recon mission to figure out what he could do while he was there. He is going to open a cigar shop, golf, rent a yacht and listen to underground Tampa rapper Uniq Rider, who I found by googling.
7:52. I am getting bored. Brendan is walking around the crib eating Ritz crackers.
7:55. OKAY THAT WAS AWESOME! THAT DUDE RAN THE BALL DOWN THE THING MAJORLY AND MADE A TOUCHDOWN! AND IT WAS THE LONGEST PLAY IN SUPERBOWL HISTORY!!! Also, we found a vegetarian football player. He is also a spokesperson for Paxil who quit because he found marijuana more effective.
8:06. Is football the only sport where you can be super fat and look like you drink 9 beers a night and still play professionally?
8:21. “Glory Days” reminds me of my parents getting divorced, because it was super popular on MTV at that time. Also, my dad told me they were getting divorced during the Phil Collins’ “Against All Odds” video, forever ruining what fledgling and unlikely affinity I might have had for his music. Could have been worse!
8:29. These dudes are boring. They need to choose commentators based on their comedy factor, like they do the Oscars. Ellen DeGeneres, Billy Krystal and LISA KUDROW! Brendan wants: Max B.
8:44. THIS GAME NEEDS TO BE OVER SO WE CAN WATCH THE ONE HOUR EPISODE OF THE OFFICE.
8:50. Football players have awesome asses, straight up. What exercises are they doing? I want in. Also, what is the average calorie intake before a game?
8:52. We got bored and are now watching The Simpsons.
10:03. Back to the game. They are playing the original of “Take it to the House” and Sam says they play the Trina/Trick Daddy version at Mariners games, but just the chorus. Brendan: “It’s a jock jam.”
Close up on the Predator looking dude from Cardinals going, “oh no. Oh no. oh no” is making me sad.
The longhaired dude is making me crazy. At least put it up in your bun up in your helmet dude. Looks unkempt all fanned out and imprisoned like that-like it wants to be liberated.
10:09. While googling Santonio Holmes I found this website.

SAM TOPIC V. 2: You should analyze Papa Roach’s last resort video for your blog. It is one of the best examples of late ’90s culture ever. [via BBM]
Let it be known that, prior to this moment, I don’t believe I have ever seen this video (when it came out I was moving from Massachussetts to Portland and was TV-less and poor), so in general anything to do with late ’90s Papa Roach scummy, ornery, mainstream/non-hip-hop skaterboy culture is completely lost on me. Sam is like 192 years younger than I am so he was probably rocking this song and pulling 360 kickflips while in diapers. I don’t think I even know what Papa Roach sounds like. Here we go. For the sake of the First Amendment, this is the uncensored version. Also unembeddable thanks to the exasperatingly reliable folly of major record labels’ youtube game.
Oh! Papa Roach is one of those rapping metal bands. Wow Sam. Wow.
Fisheye lens was apparently a requirement for late ’90s videos whether they were featuring Bad Boy artists, Madonna (remember when she tried to be Bjork), or Papa Roach, apparently. Recently brought back into vogue by your boy Rik Cordero.
DISAFFECTED YOUTH IN FULL EFFECT. It is evident they are disaffected because of their sullen scowls, socially deviant hairdos, general aloneness and the fact that their dark, dank rooms are plastered top to bottom in unframed* rock posters. Sam just informed me the reason this video was censored was because there is a line about suicide. In the censored version, they bleep out “cut” and “bleeding.”
Rap metal may be the worst genre of music ever (please take note, actual rappers with your hankering for shredder pedals), but I can see why pissed off kids were into it… all the moshable yelling and monster minor-key guitars seem pretty effective for channeling teen angst, as evidenced by the stadium of thrashers in “Last Resort,” a song about offing oneself when the pressures of calculus and finding weed and dealing with one’s parents become too great to handle. The video documents approximately the second wave of the mainstreaming of alternaculture, when a certain look no longer necessarily expressed values, only angst rooted in… what? Clinton was still in office, Lewinsky ordeal was already over. Suburban disaffection? Is Papa Roach the Richard Yates of late ’90s suburban white teenagers? Wasn’t the late ’90s when they started prescribing Prozac like it was Sour Patch Kids. Does this video, made for folks a few years younger than the Gen Xers, represent the actual despondence and rage of a generation, or the popularization of a vague notion of despondence and rage as a visual and cultural meme? The chorus is fully singable: “NOTHING IS FINE! NOTHING’S ALL RIGHT! I WANT SOMEONE TO TELL ME I’M FINE!” According to wikipedia, which Sam recommended I check for background info, Papa Roach lead singer Jacoby Shaddix and drummer Dave Buckner “met on the Vacaville High School football field during an intense match, where the two ended up talking about music.” Also according to wikipedia, one of Shaddix’s favorite books is “The Power of Now.” Can someone tell me if their music got less angry after he read it?
* [SIDEBAR: One time I was interviewing Josh Homme for Spin magazine and was stuck for like five hours in his suite at the W Union Square while Josh did a photo shoot with this writer for High Times and his girlfriend, who had already gotten their interview but stuck around, I think, because they were–yes–high. I will never forget the High Times writer telling me that the moment he decided to get all his rock posters framed? That’s when he knew he was a man.]

clip art from Craphound
SAM TOPIC V. 1: “Oh man I want you to blog about when you worked in the comic store” [via BBM]
In mid-1999, I had just moved to Portland, Oregon from Cambridge, Massachusetts, and for a while during the transition from East to West I had a part-time employment at the excellent zine/comic store Reading Frenzy. You should definitely go there if you are ever in Portland, aka the only place on earth where the internet has not bodied fanzines as a whole (thanks largely to owner Chloe Eudaly and her ilk and tireless support of the independent publishing community), and when you go there, you should spend a fukload of money.
When I worked there, Reading Frenzy mostly sold: fanzines on commission, independent comix (“serialized graphic novels” as the NY Times would discover like 19 years later), art books, Japanese stationery, poster art by people like Art Chantry, and really cute but specific tchotchkes i.e. tiny rubber baby keychains. Every month there was an art show and I recall the idea of “teeth” being a recurring theme. The store was tiny and the days I worked were not busy but there was a small portable stereo there so I would always listen to Chloe’s CD collection, which basically meant I listened to Wu-Tang and twee J-Pop. I can probably still sing every word to Takako Minekawa’s Cloudly Cloud Calculator. Basically my employment involved listening to music, reading every issue of comics like Eightball and Meatcake, writing stories, sweeping, trying to draw my own comics that inevitably came out looking like Cathy, and waiting for dog-parking crusty punx or zine folk to come through and drop a dollar fifty on the new issue of Cometbus or, if they were cool, the amazing graphic design/ clip art magazine Craphound (six dollars).
One day, though. I’m like chiling listening to whatever. The sugar voice of Takako chirping about her cat in alliterations, probably. When this old grey bearded dude comes in. He’s lingering for a hot minute by the Japanese porn section, where we stocked a lot of hentai with titles like “Nurse Faeries” and “Imaginary Boob Schoolgirl Hobbits” or whatever. So the store is small, I’m like three feet from this dude, and there’s lots of heroin dick-flashers in PDX so whenever a random person spends an inordinate amount of time at the porn bookcase I get kind of skeptical about their motives. But after awhile dude rolls up to the counter (rolls aka takes three steps) clutching like NINE STACKS of fanzines, Japanaporn (hentai), Craphound, comics, etc. He spends eighty bucks which is like BALLING in a zine store where most of the shit goes for $0.50. He hands me his credit card and I scan it and then I look at it and IT IS FUCKING MATT GROENING. I get kinda fan-nerdy and vaguely recall saying something stupid to hide it like “How do you like Portland?” and he’s like TOTALLY GREW UP HERE, IT WAS GREAT, LOVE READING FRENZY, GOING TO POWELL’s NOW. THANKS GUHL. I was younger then so I felt super embarrassed for not recognizing him in the first place and uttering something stupid when I did, but then again, who can point dude out of a lineup unless he’s wearing a yellow mask with spiky triangle hair and a fatsuit and saying “Doh”? I immediately called Simpsons-superfan Sean Tejaratchi (who makes Craphound) to tell him Matt G. totally just bought his magazine, and I think I quit like two months later to go be the Arts Editor of the Portland Mercury, with Sean as the Art Director.
Is this story even awesome? SAM MORE MYSTIKAL-LIKE TOPIC REQUESTS.

Tonight I dined with Samuel L. Jackson P. Hockley-Smith, aka Sam. Together we decided that, now that I have a briefish amount of time to blog before immersing myself back in the day-to-day of running a magazine, I should write at least once daily until the end of winter break about a topic he recommends. But first I must offer some context on: SAM.
Sam has recently shaved and procured a free haircut from his sister who is moonlighting in haircut school but before that, his red beard and fluffy hair framed his face like a cotton candy cloud. Those, coupled with his perhaps unhealthy penchant for flannel button downs, gave him the appearance of a young, less giant, Seattle-born-and-bred Paul Bunyon. Sam is the deputy online editor of The FADER, where he often blogs about the beach, space and other dudes with beards, and so our interactions typically unfold as follows:
Sam walks into my office
Sam: That’s a nice flannel.
Me: Thanks.
Sam: Can I have it?
OR
Sam walks into my office
Sam [distressed, exasperated, unceremonious]: Ughhhhhh, Gawwwwwwwwd.
Sam’s demeanor and style of dress have led to the coining of the term “Samoflauge,” which refers to any fellow bearded, flannel wearing white dude, which in turn refers to the entirety of Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
2.
Last summer, Sam went through a regressive rap phase where all he wanted to listen to were songs by Goodie Mob that he loved in high school. This made sense, because his specialties are A. music made by psychedelic folky hippie types [c.f. Beards] and B. rap. Hence a goodly amount of his blog posts on the FADER have involved a fantasy about being somewhere else, usually somewhere of the lifted persuasion. He also used to be sort of backpacky. Who didn’t really. But it gets extreme. At some point over the summer me, Sam, and Crackymanica ended up at that one milkshake joint in Chelsea after a show at like, Hiro Ballroom, and talked for an hour about Anticon, which Crackymanica and I both wrote about around the turn of the century, and which Sam, being younger than us, street-teamed… I think?? In the interest of maintaining your idea of us as being suuuuuper coooool, I will elaborate no further. Instead. I shall offer this video of Sam’s favorite Goodie Mob song:
3.

Okay. I been knowing about Beyonce’s enabling alter ego Sasha Fierce since she talked about her in a, I believe, 2004 Rolling Stone interview/cover story. I thought that was awesome: I’m utterly fascinated with artistic alter egos, the psychological transformation and bravery that getting into character supposedly gives people like Bey, Mary J Blige (Brook-lyn) and particularly Mariah (Mimi), my favorite armchair Jungian analysis patient. Also, having an alter ego is so excellently diva and by diva I mean drag queen. But here she is, flaunting her Sasha Fierceness on her new album which is, with the exception of 3 songs, slightly less exciting than a stone stewing in crone’s broth. I wanna ask, What is so Fierce about ballads that tiptoe emotionally around acoustic guitar. My theory is that she is suffering from Usher-style post-marriage syndrome, where you get hitched and suddenly everything is about your boo but your boo is super old so you start recording adult contemporary music so s/he can understand. No dis to Jay (mostly), this is more about Tameka. Either way this album is a giant songwriting SNAFU.
Or maybe Beyonce is using “Fierce” in the contemporary banjee inverted sense, where calling someone fierce means the exact opposite? It’s possible, I’m certain that tranny in the “Single Ladies” video is the great vogue diva / choreographer Danielle Ninja. (YouTube her if you are not on my level.) Who else would link her up with a Bob Fosse routine?
So she’s looking really mean on the cover of Elle. They should fire whoever did her eyebrows. But what I wanna talk about is the fact that she said her MOM had to LEAVE THE SET a couple times during the filming of Cadillac Records BECAUSE SHE WAS CURSING. AND THAT BEYONCE CURSES “MAYBE TWICE A YEAR.”
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!
The worst part is I don’t think she’s lying. The worst part is I am quite positive Ms. Knowles is telling the truth. This is consistent with her good girl image which I don’t believe is actually an image. But I’m suffering from dissociative aftershocks. SASHA FIERCE… NEVER FUCKING CURSES. I know this is very inconsequential ultimately but it hits a nerve: I have been obsessed with how Twilight‘s giant abstinence metaphor and the totally crazy-making sexual tension in the movie (where they don’t even kiss until 3/4 of the way in) has a ridiculous hold on this country, and how I feel like, even though Obama won, the puritans may be winning this round of the culture wars. ABSTINENCE? NO CURSING? WHAT ELSE IS LEFT? PROHIBITION? I just re-watched the movie Frida and was reminded of how excellently she lived: with joy, with expression, a full glutton who drank, smoked, took lovers, cursed, did whatever she wanted and became who exactly she wanted to be. An individual, now that’s fucking fierce, and I don’t mean in the banjee sense. I mean it in the Webster’s dictionary sense.
Beyonce, I fux w/you when you’re doing shit like “Single Ladies,” but Sasha Fierce with her “chilling by the fire with a glass of chardonnay got my Isotoners on” music seriously needs to fall back.
RANT / BRAIN SPEW IS OVER, GOING TO THE GYM.

Today Sam sent me one of his funny demanding declarative BBMs. This one was non sequitur to any conversation we had going prior to said message. It read: “Update your blog.” and then “Write about Mystikal.” I wanted to write about the war, I replied. He told me if I needed a connection, i could talk about the one Mystikal video shot in the desert. It is unembeddable because record labels do not understand that if someone embeds a video they paid for, it’s like free viral marketing, and why would a record label want to get anything for free? Especially on such a useless and media-devaluing tool such as the “web.”
I digress. Someone else told me that writing about the war was not the look and then when I tried to discuss it with Will, there was really nothing either of us could say about it. This may be because my dear friend Will and I are on the exact same psychic wavelength at virtually all times barring when he is watching hockey (or when he was voting Edwards), and we already intuited how the other felt. Perhaps we couldn’t discuss it because words are a way of exerting a kind of power over such a situation, when the more honest response is to stew in our own helplessness. So we let there be silence.
Let’s discuss this Mystikal video, because it is something we can control. First of all, dude is wearing a TURTLENECK SWEATER, suede or leather suit, skully and Timbs in the MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING DESERT. This is of course hot in men’s fashion in 2000 but moreso, it is a signifyer that HEAT DON’T BOTHER THE GOD. CUZ THE GOD IS ALREADY MAD HOT. The sentiment is underscored when he barks “BAD” and grabs his nutsack with his left hand. Also, this being one of Mystikal’s most blatantly James Brownian (and amazing!) tracks, it recalls the fact that the Godfather perpetually wore full suits and leather botas and danced for hours and sweat his balls off but, marvelously, kept the fly little jacket on.
I want to know what went down in the video treatment pitch session. “So, Mystikal, after you land in the desert, this Pam Grier chick picks you up on a giant hog and drives you to an old house in Kansas. We know it is an abandoned house because a tumbleweed rolls by precisely when you and Pam pull up the crib. There, you perform a concert with Nivea, get into a 22-girl orgy with a nine-foot python, and just as the fly Pam chick is about to let you get it, You Wake Up! It was all a DREAM! You are simply a sucka who passed out in the desert because you are wearing copious amounts of clothing.” and Mystikal’s like “YEAH GREAT IDEA DUDE!”