She Got McCained!

I wonder how many times George, I mean John, McCain has thought about casting his rod into Palin's Alaskan front. She's like a less attractive Tina Fey...without the humor...and without the pro-choiceness...and without Tracy Morgan ("Liz Lemonnn!").

EDIT
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Caption: McSame says, "damn, I wanna tap her youthful base. I wanna drill her oil reserve. I wanna fill her oval office!"

Palin says, "jerry atric over here keeps calling me by the wrong name. I hope his pacemaker gives. He smells like old balls."

Do You Smell What Barack Is Cooking?

Barack Obama is sweeter than peeps on Easter Sunday. He's better than hot pho on a cold winter day. He's like Falcor, sharing his wisdom while he flies us through the Never Ending Story. He's like the wrinkled twenty dollar bill you find in the back pocket of your favorite pair of jeans you lost at the bottom of your closet. He's like your inner child giving your outer adult a high five. Barack Obama is like morning dew. Hearing him speak is like discovering you're double jointed and destined to shatter world records in competitive swimming. He's like waking up from that nightmare you have of being late to your final exam, only to find instant relief when you realize that it's a Saturday morning in the middle of July. He's like the exact opposite of a venereal disease. He is cooler than the make-believe lovechild of James Dean and Jessica Rabbit. He's better than longanisa swimming in egg yolk and garlic rice. Chuck Norris fears him. He's more awesomer than a steel cage ladder match between the care bear cousins and new kids on the block. He's like the day your braces came off, full of smiles. Watching Barack last night was like watching Hot Rod unlock the Matrix of Leadership and become Rodimus Prime while the 80's rock song You got the touch! wales in the background. It's like Optimus said, "it will light your darkest hour." Have you ever looked into his eyes? It was like the first time I heard the Beatles. Barack Obama is the mother of my unborn child.

Cool Shiznit My iPhone Can Do and Why It Could Steven Seagal Your Phone’s Ass in a Street Fight

As many proud iPhone users have come to discover, the iPhone is chock full of cool tricks and shortcuts that you are meant to discover on your own (like that mole underneath your you-know-what) or by word of mouth (like Chicken and Rice, conveniently open at all hours of the night on 53rd and 6th). This is because Apple has gone out of their way to include with the iPhone an instruction manual as thick as a napkin. So, out of the goodness of my heart and my dedication to the masses, I have compiled below my favorite and coolest things that the iPhone can do that you probably didn’t know. To put it simply, your phone couldn’t hold my phone’s jock. Happy touch-screening!

Need to find somewhere to eat? If you scroll all the way to the last page of your desktop/phone-top interface thingy, you’ll find a small icon with the face of a bearded man hovering over the block letters “JESUS.” If you drag your thumb over the icon twice, making the sign of the cross on the screen, the iPhone will take five loaves of bread and two fish and feed a multitude of over 5,000 people. Best of all, the leftovers will amount to 12 baskets of food which you can definitely bring to the office the next day for lunch/Biblical feast.

Looking for love? While at a club/lounge/basement party/dentist waiting room, hold up the iPhone to any hot female or male, double click the home key, and it’ll automatically send you their name and 10-digit phone number. What if it’s a mediocre to border-line “only approach with beer goggles” female/male? Fear not, the iPhone sensors will detect your ere in judgment and send a 10w surge of electricity straight to your nards or ovaries. Thank the iPhone for saving you that embarrassing trip to Planned Parenthood. ;)

Ever need to show your ID? Well, just hold up your iPhone, and the NYPD will come and shoot you.

The stocking application! One of the most innovative applications for the iPhone is the fabulous stocking app. This infinitely useful application is also free and a must for all iPhone users. Simply place your iPhone discreetly in the purse or pocket of any unsuspecting target, and then, from the comfort of your own home or any unmarked, nondescript econoline van, log onto the website stocking.com and it’ll instantly track your target using the iPhone’s GPS. Whether it’s the office, the grocery, home alone…you’ll know where your target is at all times! It works so well you’ll endlessly wonder just how stocking was even possible in the pre-iPhone era!

What’s your favorite iPhone trick or tip? Leave me some droppings!

Olympic Thought of the Moment #2

"Sudden Death" is the worst example of false advertising. I'm still waiting to see an athlete lose a game and then immediately lose their life. It never seems to happen. Disappointment ensues as breathing continues. I keep thinking that as soon as the opposing team scores, the losers will suddenly get mamed by a pride of lions. ("Aargh! a lion!!") Or the field beneath them will open up as they fall into the depths of the scorpion pit. ("Aargh! a scorpion!!") Or the hand of god will come swooping from the heavens and crush the players like a flyswatter. ("Aargh! the hand of god!!") And yes, I believe in Old Testament god. What ever happened to a good ol' smiting?

Olympic Thought of the Moment

I think a ring of fire would vastly improve the entertainment value of some of the less popular, more obscure Olympic sports. Just think how thrilling these high octane events would be: Ring of Fire Synchronized Diving, Ring of Fire Steeplechase, Womens Ring of Fire Trampoline, and my personal favorite Ring of Fire Kitten Toss.

We didn't start the fiiire
It was aalways burning
Since the world's been turrrning
We didn't start the fiiire...

Dear Immortal Technique,

While I appreciate your indie-mindedness and dedication to third world struggles (props for shouting out Southeast Asia), your recent performance at Rock the Bells was wiggidy wiggidy wack. Spitting progressive political raps does not automatically make you dope. Revolution itself is not the art form; hip hop is the art form. Please remember that in your future endeavors. Perhaps take a page (or the whole book) from Dead Prez. Or borrow some dope-sauce from Public Enemy. Hip hop should move me, not make me wince in pain cuz it sounds like someone murdering a kitten. (Did you text me?)

In the immortal words of Lil Mama, “you just don’t excite me.”

Hopefully you've realized this after seeing all the non-dancing, nerdy white kids that showed up to see you. It looked like the line for the new iphone. (shit I should know; I was on that line)

And bragging at the end of your set that "I'm gonna walk through the crowd now because I'm not afraid of my fans, I'm not afraid of the people" sounded more insecure than inspiring. Why must you be the RockSteady of rap? And of course you’re not afraid of your fans. What’s the worst they can do, write a diatribe blog post about u?

Sigh. Like I said, your politics are on point, and I'm all for the revolution you propose, but please please please make your flows tighter and your beats doper. Keep it funky, guy. Cuz I got my fist up, but can you make my head nod? If not, then I ask you to decline the offer to perform in between Dead Prez and De La Soul. It's just not right.

Peace and solidarity,
Boogie B

P.S. Please don't shoot me with your rifle. I'm allergic to bullets.

Text-icular Cancer

Please stop texting me. I beg of you, refrain from your villainous assault on my piggy bank. Seriously, it’s eating away at my soul. The cost of communication is killing me softly and yet you still insist on messaging me things that you could easily take care of with a free phone call (yeah, nights and weekends) or via ol’ reliable Hedwig (Hagrid gave her to you for a reason).

And these one worders! So sadistic!

Hi = 10 cents
dinner? = 10 cents
herpes! = 10 cents + visit to the clinic

(as I’m writing this, I realize that the keyboard allows me to type a dollar $ign but I can’t type the cents symbol. U know, the little c with a toothpick struck down the center, kind of like a letter sandwich…but what I’m saying is this--keyboards discriminate against cents which results in dollar sign privilege)

All these texts add up…to 30 cents! That’s 3 dimes I could’ve used for my ‘cheese of the month’ scratch n sniff cards. That’s thirty copper pennies I could’ve inserted into my 15 pairs of penny loafers. That’s one quarter I could’ve used to complete my 50 state quarter map (goodbye Wyoming, “The Equality State”) and one nickel I could’ve used to hire Lucy for her psychiatric help.

Damn you lecherous thieves!

So I’ve decided that I'm billing you the 10 cents + interest for every text you send me. Don't test me...or text me, because i will come to your door late at night, when you least expect it, demanding the rights to your drawstring coin purse.

Otherwise, if you're gonna write me a message that I'm paying for, it better be worth it. I expect to see some character development, allegorical overtures, a little iambic pentameter, and at least 3 references to my massive triceps. I mean seriously, I'm paying for ur writing, i need me some quality.

So the next time you think about texting me, remember these words:

Everytime you send a text, god kills a kitten.

Rock the motherfu**ing bells!

"back in the days when i was a teenager"

Gee golly willickers, this show was the neatest! For real, shit was off the hook, on fire, and will go down as one of the greatest hip hop shows of all time! I am not exaggerating. The lineup was already incredible but add in the fact that this was the NYC leg of the tour, and that all of these acts with the exception of the pharcyde are from the great city of hip hop mecca and you’re bound to come up with something magical. Everyone and everybody from the hallowed halls of hip hop history came through, as surprise special guest blessed the stage one after the other. It was like watching the royal rumble: you just never know who was gonna come tear it up next. Just look at this list of acts to get a taste of the greatness that touched down on jones beach yesterday:

Dead Prez

Immortal Technique w/
Pharoahe Monch

De La Soul w/
Dres from Black Sheep “You could get with this, you could get with that”
Biz Markie “Youuu, got what I neeeeed”
Q-Tip “B.U.D.D.Y”

Pharcyde

Raekwon and Ghostface w/
Cappadonna and like 50 other people on stage

Supernatural -- freestyling about any object the crowd put in his hands

Mos Def w/
Talib Kweli (full Black Star set)
Pharoahe Monch “Simon says get the fu** up!”

Redman and Method Man w/
DJ Kool “when I say freeze y’all freeze one time”
Slick Rick “La di da di, we like’s to party” (after that one line, he bounced lol)
EPMD! “There ain’t no laffy taffy on this stage!”
Keith Murray “a hip hop, a hibbit..."

NAS w/
JAY-Z!!! “I feel like a black republican…”

Q-Tip w/
Mos Def as the hype man

A Tribe Called Quest (including Jarobi) w/
Cons to the quence
Busta Rhymes!!! “RAOWW RAOWWW like a dungeon dragon!”
Spliff Star
Mos Def

Quotes of the day:
Nas says “I feel so energized being here…I feel like doing 400 records for y’all, and I got ‘em!” only an LG could say that – legendary gangsta!

Q-Tip says at the end of the whole show, “This is beautiful…hip hop brings people together…I see white, black, Filipino, asian…” haha FILIPINO what!!! He left out latino and inserted Filipino. Maybe he’s been reading mark’s blog: hiphoplives-mrk904.blogspot.com

Native Tongues fam De La and Tribe really killed it with well-crafted, refined performances that showcased high energy, love-infused, artful hip hop. People really need to study their craft of hip hop performance. Not many come with rehearsed performances like they do in way that 1) utilizes the dj, 2) utilizes the crowd through effective and original call and response, 3) varies the arrangements of their hit records, and 4) shows crew unity through complimentary and collaborative deliveries that go beyond the hackneyed, lazy “MC and a hype man” model.

And seeing Tribe together like that …there are just no words. They broke up in ’98 and haven’t performed together in NY in 11 years. Q-Tip and Jairobi are a little fatter. Phife looks real skinny, and clearly effected by diabetes. This may very well have been their final performance as a full crew. But at least their going out in the only way that tribe could: LE-GEN-wait for it…DARY. They had everything in their show. The dramatic lights out entrance w/ the computerized voice from Midnight Marauders introducing them: “A Tribe Called Quest is: Phife Dawg…Ali Shaheed Muhammad…Jarobi…Q-Tip…A, E, I, O, U, and sometimes Y.” They did cool intros to just about every song that had you guessing what was coming up next by playing sample originals, scratching, beat juggling, and other showmanship. They had the entire crowd side-stepping in unison to Bonita Applebum. They passed the flow to each other with the elegance and energy of a choreographed dance. They interacted with each other on every verse, animating collectively to highlight certain lines and phrases. They interacted with their DJ, integrating his skills into the show. They did most of Scenario accapella, and only brought the beat back when BUSTA RHYMES burst onto the stage with crazy busta-style menergy! He was rhyming so hard he looked like he was krumping! Then they went into Put Your Hands Where My Eyes Could See. They finished the show with Award Tour, singing praise for “New Yoooooooork!” and stirring the crowd’s love for hip hop. Wow.

And this was after an entire day of phat ass performances. After everyone was exhausted, sun burnt, throats parched, and ready to go home. And after Nas ripped it with Jay-Z beside him and in front of a full band. Just goes to show you how celebrated and respected Tribe is. C’mon, Mos was Q-tip’s hype man in the beginning. That’s status.



For more youtube vids: http://backpackgully.blogspot.com/2008/08/rock-bells-jones-beach-2008-de-la-soul.html

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B-side
To all you nerdy, white hipster kids that showed up, smoking weed till your eyes bled, and looking all confused when you didn’t know We Got the Jazz: you are not hip hop. Please learn the culture, study the history, or go the fuck home. I’m insulted that you came to see Immortal Technique but didn’t know how to party to Buggin’ Out. I can’t believer you just stood there in stoic silence. You were killing my natural high. For that, I wish you many many years of bad karma and public humiliation.

And to the ditsy white girl with her hipster-wannabe, preppy bf that pointed up to the screen while Supernatural was on stage, asking me “Is that Mos Def?”: yes, yes that is Mos Def, and I’m 2Pac Shakur. My friend Suge Knight here will now proceed to rob you as he dangles you from a 30th floor balcony.