Little Brother -- The Minstrel Show: Review

Damn, I fell for it again. I should have learned my lesson after suffering through watered down major label releases from once-reliable (when they weren't on majors, naturally) groups such as Jurassic 5, Blackalicious, and Dilated Peoples. The fact of the matter is this: these days it is impossible to drop a classic or near-classic record on a major unless you have had previous success (see Outkast), or are connected to those who have (see Common).

I had read a few very positive reviews of The Minstrel Show, however, and knew about the controversy regarding the ratings the album garnered in The Source (1991-1997, R.I.P.) and XXL magazines. For those unaware, both mags initially were to going to rate, respectively, the album 4 1/2 mics (5 being the highest) and XXL (the highest possible rating); that is until politics and other bullshit (or so I've read) led to XXL giving it an XL rating, and The Source's editorial higher-ups demanding a 4-mic rating. Apparently cooler heads prevailed (depending on how you look at it), and the 4 1/2 mics stood.

A win for the underdog, right? Problem here is that this album isn't worthy of such a high rating, especially from the hip-hop equivalent of The National Inquirer. When you take into account the fact that 'Lil Kim's most recent effort, The Naked Truth, achieved a 5-mic "classic" rating, you know the bar at "The Sauce" is set pretty damn low.

Hey, I really wanted to like this album. I travelled into Gangnam yesterday with the sole purpose being me buying the damn thing. What a mistake. It is definitely not a CD to sacrifice a Sunday afternoon trying to cop it over. I should have played basketball or asked my wife to teach me how to use an abacus.

"Many people tell me this style is terrific
It is kinda different but let's get specific":

1) Welcome to the Minstrel Show

Intro. While not a concept album in the strictest sense, the CD's theme revolves around the fictional The Minstrel Show, a sitcom airing on UBN (U Black Niggas, an obvious reference to UPN). It's a good intro to the album. I haven't been able to get the jingle out of my head for 2 days.

2) Beautiful Morning

It's got a great beat, but did they really need to craft a song about what it's like gaining marginal success and getting signed to a major label? Imagine a fresh, young Hollywood director making a film about what it's like to become a director in Hollywood. Yawn. It's been done to death. In this case, the old addage "don't sing it, bring it" rings true. Hey, I'm happy for you guys, I really am. But I couldn't care less about what it feels like for you to be living your dream. Is this supposed to be innovative?

3) The Becoming

Again, a solid beat by 9th Wonder is slightly overshadowed by a tired song idea, namely the history of the group.

4) Enough

This sounds like it would be (or is) the album's first single. Because it has an R&B hook. Despite that fact, it's reasonably dope -- only again the subject of the song (people criticizing, complaining, and hating on them because of their success) is tired and boring. Jesus, for all this introspection they should have made a song about how Foot Locker doesn't carry their size sneakers, or the gas they get after dinner at Sizzler.

5) Cheatin'

A humorous R&B track by Percy Miracles, who is the alter-ego of Phonte, I think. It's a humorous song, and actually well-produced; but for a piss-take it goes on way, way, way to long (clocking in at over 3 1/2 minutes). It slows the album the fuck down.

6) Hiding Place

It's ironic that this song, which is about nothing more than how dope the MCs (and guest Elzhi, who, surprisingly, steals the show) are, is a refreshing break from all the navel-gazing. Good song. So far all the beats have been tight. And I could love an album filled with barnyard noises as long as the beats are dope.

7) Slow It Down

About relationships and finding a dependable woman. A good beat, but, man, fuck off with the R&B hooks, okay? Let me get this straight: the album title is in reference to the current state of hip-hop music, where artists are being pimped by labels and black culture isn't being dictated by black artists, but by the labels who sign them. OK, I'm with you. But then why do you then allow yourself to be similarly pimped? C'mon, there's no way LB had 100% creative control on this record. Did they realize that and make the album anyway, hoping it would be for a greater good? If so, I feel sorry for them, because this album isn't going wood. They'll be dropped like so many before them because their street buzz didn't equal record sales. Let's hope they only signed a one-album deal, or else we're likely to be subjected in the future to a crappy follow-up, possibly succeeded by a rushed out Litte Brother: The Greatest Hits, containing about 7 or 8 songs from 2 albums. Hey, it's happened before. Just ask the Fu-Schnickens.

8) Say It Again

I like the almost steel drum-sounding percussive melody on this track. It's a fun song, not overly serious. Not great, but good. I should mention here that Phonte is a dope MC. His style is plantains, meaning it's almost bananas. It's obvious Black Thought had a major influence on him. Great cadence. The other MC, Rapper Big Pooh....uh...

9) 5th and Fashion

Skit. Stupid.

10) Lovin' It

Can't these guys come up with some better song titles? This is the album's first really disappointing song. The hook is annoying as hell, and guest MC Joe Scudda's verse is laughably wack. A slow, boring song.

11) Diary of A Mad Black Daddy

Another fucking skit. Not as stupid as the previous one. Still pretty stupid, though.

12) Duck-billed Hunchback Calculator

Just kidding, but that's a better title than the boring and redundant All For You

It's got a fresh topic (for this album, at least): fathers and sons and their relationships. The beat becomes a little too repetative and overstays its welcome. Decent beat, but nothing to write home to Marley Marl over. I should mention that I consider 9th Wonder slightly overrated. The dude can craft a serviceable beat, but he's far from being the second coming of Primo.

13) Watch Me

Another mundane track. Slow. I don't know which is wacker: the song or my review of it. Only saving grace is DJ Jazzy Jeff's guest scratching at the end.

14) Sincerely Yours

Shame on you, LB, for soiling the legacy of Kool G Rap by naming this track after G Rap's classic [edit: I'm an idiot. The Kool G Rap classic is of course titled Truly Yours]. This is a Big Pooh solo joint where he addresses his critics who say his style pales in comparison to Phonte's, and that he's the weak link of the crew. Problem is, the critics are right. I was pleasantly surprised at Phonte's skills as an MC. On the other hand, Pooh's a letdown. LB would be more effective as Phonte and 9th Wonder. There, I said it. Also, it's not smart to alienate your white audience by making fun of them, especially when they're the majority of the people buying your records. Warrants mentioning.

15) Still Lives Through

Ill-conceived ATCQ homage track, replete with annoying Busta Rhymesesque (I've always wanted to write that) "oh my god!" shouts during the chorus. Take away the chorus and it'd be all right, I suppose. I should have executive produced this fucking CD.

16) Minstrel Show Closing Theme

Outro. Utilizes the same beat as the intro, with a slightly different jingle. As good as an outro can be.

17) We Got Now

No, you don't. Still, I can't front, that's a very dope beat.

Another note: I find it hilariously funny that guest MC, Chaundon (remember when MCs had creative names? Me, too. Sigh), says something about "seize every moment", but the lyrics in the liner notes have it as "cease every moment." Rich.

Reading over this review, I realize I've been far too kind to this record. At one point I wrote that the album is "fairly decent." It isn't. In fact, when the wheels fall off around track 9, it's borderline wack. Don't believe the hype. If this is considered a classic album by the next generation of hip-hop fans, I am very worried for the music's future.

Final verdict: 3 *_*/5 *_*

On the mend

What a difference a day makes. The swelling on my forehead has gone down enough for me to again show my face in public (pretend that that's a good thing). Last night the wife was giddy because the mosquito bite looked like a tit. I was considerably less enthused, but also a little turned on.

Because I'm feeling gregarious, here's what I dressed up as for Halloween over the years:

1981: Darth Vader. I had a high fever and fell in a ditch. It wasn't the fever that did it, however; it was that fucking mask.

1982: Superman. I got the idea and my mom made the costume. My older brother, the biter, also insisted on going as Supes. I had a broken leg at the time, and he looked taller and cooler than I did. No fair.

1983: A skeleton. I think the costume still fits me. My mom sewed felt bones on a black bodysuit. I almost refused to go out that year because the bodysuit showed a picture of a girl doing gymnastics. After receiving a girl Cabbage Patch Kid a few months prior, I was convinced my Mom was trying to turn me into a sissy boy.

1984: Winston Smith. I wore a pair of dirty overalls and carried an empty gin bottle. Kidding. I went as a grape juice drinking box. Sadly, I was too young to come up with a line like "suck my straw."

1985: Rambo/Rocky/Cobra. I slicked back my hair with Brylcream, wore a pair of bitchin' shades, donned a pair of boxing gloves, and had a toy uzi (do they still make toy uzis?). Unfortunately, because of the gloves, I kept dropping the fucking uzi until it smashed. And the shades were a bad idea. I didn't learn my lesson with the Darth Vader mask and nearly got myself killed a half dozen times. But I looked cool. Or at least I thought I did, at the time.

1986: Werewolf. After the Vader mask and the previous year's shades, I still didn't learn my lesson. That mask was hot! And after stumbling around all night in it, it smelled like an ass. But I still have it back at my folks place. Over the following years, my brother and I would use it to scare the shit out of my little sister. I genuinely regret doing that. If I could turn back time, I would have put the mask to better use, such as donning it to hold up a liquor store.

1987: A vampire. Not much to say other than fake vampire teeth can cut your gums the fuck up. And fake blood doesn't taste nearly as good as the real thing.

1988: Zombie. I bought a make-up kit and did the job myself. In retrospect I looked more like a kid who'd been in a (minor) bike accident than one of the living dead. Plus, I don't think zombies chew gum. At least none of the ones with whom I hang out with do.

1989: The Joker. Purple suit and tie, green hair...the works, baby! I even purchased a gun to complete the effect, and shot a police commisioner's daughter, crippling her. Sadly, in the years succeeding, they didn't allow us to wear costumes at the mental hospital I was confined to until age 26. But this year I'm going all out. I have this neat explosive device and a killer ski mask...but wait! I don't want to spoil the surprise. You'll have to wait until Monday. I recommend riding the no. 7 line subway if you really want to be scared.*

* There's nothing funny about terrorism (save maybe terrorists' hygeine and accents). I know I don't need to explain myself to anyone with half a brain, but just to be extra careful, I should emphasize that the above explosive device refers to the rad Magic: The Gathering T-shirt I recently bought. It's the bomb.

Christ on a bicycle

Bloody hell. Last night I went to bed around 12:30. At a quarter past one, I awoke, my forehead itching madly. It seems that, having avoided their wrath all summer, a fucking mosquito finally preyed upon me. Last year something similar occured: while I was sleeping one bit me on the hand. That caused my hand to swell to almost twice its normal size, and I couldn't make a fist. I'm not kidding; I have an allergic reaction to mosquito bites. That was annoying, but this is downright depressing. I have a knot the size of a tangerine on my forehead, and my left eye is swollen almost completely shut. Truthfully, I look retarded. Moreso than usual. How the hell am I supposed to go outside looking like this? I'm a monster.

In an effort to cheer myself up, here are some pictures of the little girl. I hope these work until 5pm or so, which is when I'll start to drink away the pain. TGIF.

PS - Wifey kilt that them 'skeeter but real good. You go, girl.









And my personal favorite:


"Darling. Light of my life. I'm not going to hurt you. You didn't let me finish my sentence. I said, 'I'm not going to hurt you.' I'm just going to bash your brains in. I'm gonna bash them right the fuck in."*

* From Stanley Kubrick's The Shining, lest I be accused of child abuse.

Lost

I had heard so many positive things about the phenomenon that is ABC's drama, Lost, that I was dying to see it. The premise was inviting, right up my alley (and everyone else's, it would appear), and if there was one thing network TV needed, it was a quality show that appeals to a broad demographic. My one hope was that it somehow involved gerbils. Sadly, it doesn't; but I won't hold that against it. For now.

The show's first season run began, as you all likely know, over one year ago. But me being the me that I am, (because I'm a technological birdbrain, among other things), I didn't download it to watch. And I didn't watch it on AFN because I was working when it aired.

The show was picked up by KBS (I think it was KBS), and shown on the weekend -- but dubbed in Korean (sacrelige). I have no idea if it's still airing, but I've heard that it wasn't exactly a big hit here. Not like, say, The Scorpions.

So I waited for its eventual release on DVD. After waiting and inquiring as to when it would be released as a region 3 set, I finally lost my patience (no pun intended) and ordered the complete first season from Amazon.

It definitely lived up to my expectations. I immersed myself in the show and watched the whole thing in under two weeks, which is impressive for me, seeing as how I have a job and a family.

I will say that Lost is a very dangerous show. As intriguing as the first season is -- and subsequent seasons hopefully will be -- if the mysteries of the island, when they're revealed, don't pay off, the whole series will be tainted. I got the feeling that the writers were making stuff up as they went along. Not necessarily a bad thing, but...I read Stephen King's Dark Tower series, so I'm familiar with, and in a way protecting myself against, a possible letdown. King's mantra is that the journey is always more interesting than the conclusion, but of course it is when you introduce so many far-out ideas without having an idea as to what they will signify or how they'll connect to the plot. Watching Lost, I said to myself not a few times I really hope they thought this out, or the impact of the revelations are going to suck hard.

Certainly the man who created the show, JJ Abrams, is talented...but he's also the guy who wrote an early draft for the new Superman film in which it turns out Lex Luther is from Krypton, and which culminated in Supes fighting a robotic exoskeleton-encapsulated Luthor. Man, that's lamer than fuck.

As for Lost's innaugural season, boy does it ever shine. I'm no TV junkie, so I hope it isn't too heretic when I say that Lost is the best one-hour drama ever created for network TV. All the characters work, amazingly so, which is no mean feat when you consider that there are 14 of them to start the season. The premise is great, but without good writing the show would have floundered. Fortunately the writing is top-notch (as is the scoring, perhaps the first time, for me at least, a television show has been scored with the result that it sounds cinematic).

But you've already seen the show, and you don't need me to heap any more praise upon it. What I will do is offer up some thoughts and criticisms. If you haven't seen the show and want to jump in fresh, be forewarned: I'm not wearing anything under these Dockers. Sorry, I mean spoilers below:

- I lurve Dominic Monagahan, or whatever the fuck his name is. He could go on a murderous rampage and I'd still have a soft spot for him based on his appearances in the Lord of the Rings films. And he does a good job in the series, sometimes playing dead serious, and at others as comedic relief. But it's obvious he was cast because of his fame from the Rings trilogy. A convincing rock star and heroin addict he does not make, although the latter is ten times more believable than the former. But again, I'll give him grace because of the dues he paid as a hobbit.

- For the guys: all of the actresses are extremely gorgeous, but Emilie de Ravin (Claire) is tops. She looks like a blond Julia Roberts, only hot. Evangeline Lily (Kate) is a close second, but she's not soft enough. Maggie Grace has the prettiest face, but she squints and frowns too much. And Yunjin Kim's (Sun) nose is a tad too bulbous for my tastes. Let's not even discuss Rousseau, okay?

- For the gals: all of the actors are extremely hunky, but Ian Somerhalder (Boone) is tops. It's a shame he was killed off. Josh Holloway (Sawyer), if his acting career ever falls through, has a promising future as a professional wrestler. And Matthew Fox's (Jack) nose looks really wonky when seen in profile. Let's not even discuss Hurley, okay?

- What's up with the middle-age black woman whose husband was killed in the crash, and who made, like, 2 appearances during the season. Was she supposed to be a major character but was written out for some reason? Will we ever see her again? If yes, her frequent abscence in many episodes is poor form.

- Similarly, has anyone kept track of the extras appearing as castaways? If the show's producers know a thing or two, they'd be wise to keep it consistent. Fanatics -- of which this show will garner quite a billion -- are going to be watching for that sort of stuff. It'd be a shame if it turned out that there were over 300 different faces on the island when there's supposed to be 48 (42 by season's end, by my recollection).

- It was a wise decision to have Walt be taken away in the season's final episode. Minus Claire's child, he's the only kid on the show, and if the producers are smart they'll figure out a way for him to age. Otherwise it'll seem rather strange, 5 years from now, if the castaways are supposed to have been on the island for only a year or two, and poor Walt is an 11 or 12-year-old (and the dude who plays him must be at least 14) trapped in the body of a young adult. Either he's killed, or he comes back next season mysteriously aged.

- I understand that the castaways have razors and can shave. What I don't get it why their hair's length is in stasis. You're telling me Jack can maintain a suede head for over a month? C'mon!

I'm aware that the second season began some weeks ago, but I'll have to wait until almost a year later to get my Lost fix. There's no way I'm going to attempt catching random episodes on AFN; and same goes for downloading episodes. Because it's, uh, illegal.

I hope it's worth the wait. See you all at the 2078 Lost convention. I'll be the guy in a John Locke replica wheelchair.

Mr. 23 can't dunk on me.

Jordan felt 'used' by Wizards, surprised by firing

Associated Press


NEW YORK -- Michael Jordan felt "used" by the Washington Wizards and was surprised by his firing, he told CBS' "60 Minutes'' in an interview to be broadcast Sunday.

Jordan, who led the Chicago Bulls to six NBA titles in the 1990s, was the Wizards' president from January 2000 to September 2001 before coming out of retirement for the second time to play for the Wizards through the 2003 season.

"I didn't have to [start playing again],'' Jordan said in the interview. "But I did it with the benefit of trying to help an organization to get back on their feet. And the gratitude that was given? It was 'your service is no longer wanted or needed.' So I felt like I was used in a sense.''

He was fired by Washington owner Abe Pollin after a 110-179 record in 3½years as the top decision-maker, a role Jordan kept even after returning as a player.

Jordan said he didn't see the firing coming.

"No. If that was the case, I obviously wouldn't have gone back to play,'' he said. "I felt like I played injured, I went through [knee] surgery and I did the things that a lot of these young kids did not do.''

Wizards spokesman Matt Williams said the team had no comment.

Let me get this straight: you work for an organization, you do a poor job, and you're surprised that you got fired? And you have the gall to complain that you felt you were used?

Dude, you were hired to repair the ugliness that was the Washington Bullets/Wizards franchise. You did a poor job of it, and were subsequently fired. That's what happens. What, you think just because you're Michael fuckin' Jordan that you deserve some special treatment?

I just realized that I now have 3 one-ups on MJ:

1) I've never been fired from a job. Nanners!

2) I'm not an adulterer.

3) I can spell hemorrhoid without looking it up in the dictionary.

That last one is pure conjecture on my part, by the way. And while I also realize I haven't won 6 NBA Championship rings, I ask for patience on my readers' behalf. Rome wasn't built in a day.

Robbed!

We found out earlier today that the little girl will not be one of the 60 of 215 (13 from Gyeonggi-do; what's up with that?) to advance in the child model search. All day I've had to console her while she asks "why they hatin', Daddy? Daddy, why they hatin'?" What can I tell her? That the people running this model search obviously have their heads so far up their own asses that they can nearly turn themselves inside-out?

I'm not going to take this lying down, no siree. I'm taking this to the streets with a grassroots campaign to...uh, make those bastards overstand the injustice they have perpetrated today.

The 18th letter will have the last laugh, I guarantee.

Psychedelic Fermented Cabbage

- Last week my wife bought a bag of what is labelled "children's" kimchi. I figured it would be non-spicy. Nope. Last Wednesday when I gave some to the little girl, she started crying, saying it was too hot. I thought it was psychological, so I tried some myself. It wasn't the spiciest kimchi I've had, but it was spicy -- too spicy for a two-year-old to eat, for sure. Who are the geniuses who labelled the package as being for children? Monsters.

- My wife made kimchi tchigae for lunch today. It was perhaps the best I've ever tasted, which came as quite a shock. See, Wifey's a passable cook, but her previous kimchi tchigae concoctions have been, shall we say, slightly above mediocre. I was dumbfounded. It was the culinary equivalent of David Schwimmer becoming an Oscar-calibre actor. Props to Wifey, this year's MIC (most improved cook).

- I asked the wife why Korea doesn't have an annual kimchi competition similar to various beer competitions the world over. Her answer was that it would never fly, that if one type of kimchi was branded "the best," the losing provinces would bitterly bitch and moan. To that I responded, "why don't they make it international? That way Korea would always win." Her look of keen interest at my suggestion was a little frightening.

Cage -- Hell's Winter: Review

El-P is a genius. Of that there can be no debate. I haven't been as big a fan of a hip-hop producer since the Rza was in his prime (before he inexplicably and lamentably went all mediocre on everyone). Every beat he creates is dope and symphonic, and he continually tries to best himself (though I get a feeling that he's saving his best tunes for his sophomore album).

So it was with great anticipation that I welcomed Cage's signing with El-P's Definitive Jux label. At the time it was announced, I think, that El would produce the majority, if not all, of the album's tracks. I've never been a huge Cage fan (though I do own The Smut Peddlers Porn Again and the Leak Bros.'s Waterworld), but with El-P on the boards, I was in 100%.

As it turns out, El-P produced or co-produced (with the impressive skills of one Camu Tao) 8 of the album's 14 tracks. But with such beatmasters as rjD2 and DJ Shadow contributing to the project, coupled with the CD getting a 4 1/2 @s review at HipHopSite.com, I was confident the album wouldn't disappoint.

Yet it does. Marginally. Let me explain:

I love and hate this album to pieces. On one hand it's a more mature effort from an artist who for too long didn't see the big picture and realize his potential; on the other, it's a step backwards. There are some sublime moments on this album, but there are also some horribly ill-conceived ones.

Take a walk with me as I scan the tracks like Gordie Lachance.

1. Good Morning

A new addition to the pantheon of "I Heart NY" songs. Great, vicseral album starter. Also a song I can dig while cleaning my house. Guaranteed to get your head bopping before breakfast.

2. Too Heavy For Cherubs

Dreamlike track about Cage's abusive father, produced by Blockhead (with an assist from El-Producto). Hypnotic and doesn't overstay its welcome.

3. Grand Ol' Party Crash

A criticism of the war in Iraq and the US government, produced by DJ Shadow. The beat is strong, superlatively so -- that is until the second verse, when it switches up and gets weighed down by keyboard sounds that dilute the drums. Waaaay overproduced. And Jello Biafra's (whoever the hell he is) Dubya impression throughout the song is annoying beyond words.

4. The Death of Chris Palko

An autobiographal track about Cage's career, produced by Central Services (El-P and Camu Tao). Bouncy. Murky. Awesome track. El-P's skills are evident at the end, when the beat metamorphoses. Regretably, it's then that Camu Tao inexplicably (an apparent theme on the album) kicks a verse that is entirely out of context.

5. Stripes

A track detailing the history of Cage's family; specifically his abusive father, Bill Murray (not the actor), a soldier dishonorably discharged for dealing heroin. Produced by Blockhead with help from El-P. It's a thoughtful track that could have been one of the album's best, except that it loses me whenever the chorus ("fuck Bill Murray/not the actor/ the deadbeat dad who smacked her...") appears. Cringeworthy.

6. Shoot Frank

It's about heroin. I think. The rjD2-laced beat is awesome, recalling the work he did on his debut, Dead Ringer. The lyrics are up to snuff, too. But the guy crooning the hook(s) is dangerous. Part of the sung chorus fits well; it's the other part where dude sounds eerily similar to Linkin Park's Chester Bennington that makes this track difficult to absorb.

7. Scenester

I hate this song because it's so average. Seriously, why did this song make the cut? Not even the record scratching can salvage it. The next track is similar in vein and waaaay better realized. Produced by Blockhead, from whom I might have to take back anything nice I've ever thought or said about his lazy beats. This sounds like an Eminem song; and it's not the only one on the album that does. Ironic, huh?

8. Perfect World

Music to drive by. Excellent track which achieves what the previous one was shooting for: accessibility. Produced by Central Services (El-P and Camu Tao). It's a shame that Scenester makes this song redundant in the context of the album.

9. Subtle Art of the Break-Up Song

Cage exorcises some demons here. Produced by El-P. Sleepy. Not one of El's best efforts. It's serviceable, but slows down the proceedings quickly after the abortion of track 7. Cage appears to be rhyming while chewing gum in the first verse, too. Love the sampled verse on the chorus, though.

NB: Sounds like El-P sampled or interpolated Isaac Hayes's Walk On By. Listen carefully.

10. Peeranoia

Deja Vu. If Scenester was reminiscent of Eminem, Peeranoia is really derivative of that worthy. Produced by PaWL. Listen to this song in contrast to the album's best moments and you'll understand why it's so vexing to hear.

11. Left It To Us

Posse cut...of a sort. Produced by Camu Tao, who contributes the album's best beat. The first time listening to this song, I prematurely declared it the return of the posse joint. It's not, because it dies waaaay too early. Bad move, there. Seriously, if given 5 or 6 minutes, this would have been a classic posse track. I'm talking along the level of Scenario and Represent (drinks on me if you catch the songs I'm alluding to). Inexplicably (there it is again), it cuts out at the 3 1/2 minute mark. Booooo!

12. Public Property

Cage airs his beef regarding his previous label. Produced by Camu Tao. Good-if-not-great track. Chorus is borderline terrible; the rest is alright.

13. Lord Have Mercy

Episodic, CSI-style track. Produced by El-P, who proves that an "everything but the kitchen sink" approach to beat crafting can work supremely, and whose jock I'm on like Gold Bond. Sad to say, the beat works better sans Cage's rhymes. Would have fit in well on Little Johnny From the Hospital. Luckily, the disc comes with an instrumental version (which I've yet to listen to; I hope to hell the sung choruses and echoed voices are excluded).

14. Hell's Winter

Incendiary. Produced by you-know-who. Shame on you if you miss the end part of the track, where El-P shows some more virtuoso.

Verdict:

This could have been a classic. As it is, it's uneven, at times maddeningly so. Still, the good outweighs the bad. But it could have been better. Hell's Winter is Full Metal Jacket. I was hoping for Clockwork Orange.

4/5 *_*

Scary

I knew I shouldn't have eaten those slices of pizza before bed. I always have bizarre, lucid dreams when I eat pizza as a midnight snack.

Okay, they weren't actually slices of pizza; they were grilled cheese & kimchi sandwiches. Like you've never made one.

Last night I dreamt -- among other things -- that a twenty-foot tall naked, mentally handicapped Brooke Shields was chasing me (now I know how Tom Cruise feels). It was frightful beyond words. I still get shivers when I think about it.

(In the dream, she eventually caught me, and then we went for dinner at a galbi joint -- but that's beside the point.)

Imagine my surprise when I saw this after eating breakfast:


http://community.webshots.com/photo/475234885/476129987aAXtnm#

You know what this portends, right? Me neither, but it could be -- nay! must be -- more than mere coincidence.

Postscript: she should play for the Bills.

Deus Ex Machina

A few weeks ago I began reading a book of collected stories by H.P. "Sauce" Lovecraft. I have a slight inclination toward fantasy and horror literature, and I wanted to know what the big fuss was about. Certainly, Lovecraft's writing, while at times maddeningly verbose, is up to par. His prose is at times sublime, as evidenced by this brief quote from The Call of Cthulhu:

There are vocal qualities peculiar to men, and vocal qualities peculiar to beasts; and it is terrible to hear the one when the source should yield the other.

That's neat. The guy could write, for sure. So also could he pen a weird story. The first half of the book of collected stories interested me greatly. I noticed not a few elements of modern horror fiction in his works. However, by the time I reached the book's halfway point, one thing gnawed at me and vexed me immeasurably: Lovecraft's blatantly racist views.

Now, I know that, if one were to contextualize most canonical literature written prior to, say, the late 20th century, almost every white writer could be called a racist. But Lovecraft's racism, I'm afraid, is starkly extreme even in comparison to the writers of his time.

Here is an exerpt from an interview with Lovecraftian scholar -- and the man who edited the book I was reading -- S.T. Joshi:

There's a lot of argument that Lovecraft was a xenophobe and a racist. (Certainly his description of the black zombie in "Herbert West, Re-Animator" seems unduly disparaging.) Is this simply a situation where you have to judge an author according to the mores of his own time? How do you bypass this on personal level?

As an Indian, I am perennially entertained by Lovecraft’s comment, in the 1930s, that “The more one thinks about India, the more one wants to vomit!” (Actually, he was referring to the political turmoil initiated by Gandhi’s quest for independence from Great Britain.) There is no denying the reality of Lovecraft’s racism, nor can it merely be passed off as “typical of his time,” for it appears that Lovecraft expressed his views more pronouncedly (although usually not for publication) than many others of his era. It is also foolish to deny that racism enters into his fiction at key points (although I might suggest that there is a considerable element of humour and parody in that passage you cite in “Herbert West”). I find Lovecraft’s racism disappointing not merely because he expressed it so frequently in fiction and letters, but because this was one area where he refused to modify his thinking in light of new evidence. In every other aspect of his thought--metaphysics, politics, economics, aesthetics--he was constantly amending his views as new information came to him; but with his racism, he stuck pretty much to the prejudices he had absorbed in the reactionary New England of the 1890s.

Becoming more and more frustrated with Lovecraft's ubiquitous passages of racist, white supremecist writings, I was in a quandry: namely, should I put the book down and leave it alone, or keep reading until the bitter end (for the stories, while at times a mixed bag, are largely imaginative and provocative)?

I no longer have to choose. An hour-and-a-half earlier, my daughter sat upon my lap as I was nearing the end of the second chapter of The Call of Cthulhu. After sitting placidly on my knee for perhaps two or three minutes, she unexpectedly lurched forward and vomited all over the book, my hands, and my pants.

And I like to think that some unknown force was telling me to cease reading the book. The alternative is that said higher force was telling me to stop using my hands for fell purposes. Or possibly urging me to stop wearing those pants.