Showing posts with label Snoop. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Snoop. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

we return to our regularly scheduled programming

no no, not whining. that will resume at some point, but not now.

someone recently gave me grief over my increasing interest in the wall street journal. what can i say? they're trying to become a mainstream paper instead of a stock ticker with hedcuts and yes, i have totally fallen for it. (minus their op-ed page, which i realize is certifiably insane most of the time). their in-depth treatment of the feud between england and snoop was fun to read and not just out of an overdeveloped sense of irony. it actually raised some fairly real questions about the scope of governmental powers and the business consequences of england's actions. the paper also has a rather smart and practical section with advice for small businesses and entrepreneurs, way better than anything the times offers.

also, did you know that if you google the title of a subscription-only wsj article, you can read it for free? apparently this is one of the reasons why murdoch is trying to destroy google. considering murdoch completely overpaid to acquire myspace, i don't think the google is losing sleep over murdoch's instincts about the internet.

new york magazine has a sort of tedious article on murdoch and his quest to conquer his old enemy, the new york times. and as with a lot of new york magazine articles, there is a ton of pop psychology and melodramatization (is that a word?) of family relationships. the threat of patricide is always lurking.

anyway, the point of this entire post is that i discovered this factoid through that article: did you know that james murdoch, aka heir to the murdoch megabillions and probable future of newscorp, founded rawkus, the label responsible for both talib kweli and mos def? that kind of blew my mind a little.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

let's rap about brownies



in the alternative:


how did alicia keys keep a straight face? hilarious.

Friday, April 4, 2008

You, You Got What I Need



So, if you're even an occasional reader of the blog, you might've gleaned that I'm of South Asian extraction, a fact perhaps made clear--or at least not controverted--by my enthusiastic, albeit controversial, use of "cracker" and "redneck" in quotidian exchanges, but up until the age of 11--hand to teeny tiny baby Jesus in heaven above--I didn't know I wasn't white.

Those sad, awkward days I spent in Mr. Kennedy's 6th grade class, a school term memorable for the vicious literary skewering we--students and teacher alike--executed on school-mandated masterwork, Come Sing Billy Joe (which Amazon sells in whimsical Spanish form as well: Sal a Cantar Jimmy Jo!).

At this point in my life, my goals were three-fold: I hoped to add a Ferrari to my Micro Machines collection, I wanted a pair of Reebok Pumps like Will Rivers wore, and I prayed that I'd wake up one morning in the corporeal form of Shock G, fake nose, honeys and all. Yes, wayward white, suburban youth that I misapprehended myself to be, I prayed at the altar of rap music (the expression "hip hop" would still be a Tribe Called Quest album or two away from seeping into my consciousness).

Fast forward 19 years, and I have no idea where my Walkman-worn copies of As Nasty As They Want To Be or Sex Packets are--though, for the sake of nerdy admission--my original Pakistani record-shop, bootleg copy of Cube's seminal Amerikkka's Most Wanted rocks out in the glove of my '01 Corolla, so don't step. Fast forward 19 years, and the world is a complex place. The black-fetishizing, suburban white boy within me still cries for a pair of Girbaud jeans, but who's he supposed to vote for when 50's telling him that Obama's the path to race enlightenment at the same time that Snoop's saying Obama's fronting for David Duke? If Tone Loc and Biz Markie (see above) don't weigh in soon with an opinion, then I'm at a total loss, and may cast my vote for Marion Barry. What's a poser to do?

Thursday, March 22, 2007