Sunday, May 29, 2005


Pending approval, but with some back and forth between myself and Uncle Pantera (Donovan), here's the final version of the outside of the sleeve (left side back, right side front). I've been tryin to post the original version (bloody version) but had no luck. Anyhow, this is what we're lookin at for the cover art.

Let me know what you think. Be honest. I'd appreciate it.

Saturday, May 28, 2005


If I could get a pic from today's game, I would, but why not just show Varitek the Horse givin Pay-Rod a face full of fist because it captures exactly that the Sox did to the Spanks today. On top of hanging 17 runs on the board, they put up 27 hits which is insanity. They put a pounding on them. Let's just see if they can follow it up by taking the final game of the series and leap frog back over the Spanks in the standings into second place.

Helped Mahan move today--no easy task. Especially when he's putting cinder blocks in the dresser. Back is kinda tightening up on me like an old man, but the free burger was good to the tummy.

Anyhow, Happy Memorial Day to everyone. Have a wonderful weekend.

Thursday, May 26, 2005


Thanks to the lovely Sarah for making these available. She's promising more on her site (see link to the right). Here, the Original City Fence shows his displeasure for R&B hooks on hot rap tracks and any beer other than Natural Light.


This one sent to us by Mr. Mahan who thought it would be humorous to import my head onto a much smaller banjo player (that or he made my head a little too large) and then change the Sox "B" on my hat to a Spankee logo. Good work, Mahan. Found it funny enough to throw it up for all to see. I can hear "Dueling Banjos" being played by a toothless fetal-alcohol syndrome man-boy just lookin at this picture. And turquoise is simply not my color (insert mental note: get rid of any turquoise shirts in my closet). Good hand position on the left hand though.

Still waiting on that A-Rod picture. I'll follow up with my source today.

Oh, and an EXTREMELY tardy birthday wish for my lovely sister-in-law, Sarah. She doesn't know her eighties pop music, but she does know the proper amount of painkillers to administer to a drunk, injured and famous actress (who shall remain nameless) despite what her drunk, obnoxious and famous boyfriend suggests. We love you, Sarah!

Monday, May 23, 2005


Sorry, bud. I just couldn't resist throwing this pic up.


Real quick before I head to bed for the evening, let me give you some things to look forward to this week following a very quiet week at

An associate's wife gets hit on by A-Rod while he's away in the beer line at Shea Stadium (apparently pics will be provided). "Mr. Smith," I want those pics to post here for all to see.

Finished artwork for Uncle Pantera's (Donovan) first cd entitled "Gadaha". Incredible bass player with more chops than a truck stop and balls than a pool hall.

More ways to ensure yourself bad customer service.

Candid pictures from Danny's (Original City Fence) birthday bash in Lubbock.

And, if time provides, the complete j3 best hip hop albums from the beginning of the 21st century under the Spectacular Album Archive (see link).

Sorry, that's it for now. A cold glass of water, brush my teeth and off to bed for seven hours of sleep.



To put it simply: it would be best that you did. And this has to be the lamest of threats. It's not really a threat, it's a tease because all the associates thinking when you say, "I'm going to go somewhere else," is "Cool, were you going to leave now or in a few minutes?" Either wayl, it's someone else that has to tolerate your endless sulking and whining. This method is really old school and is rarely effective in today's retail landscape because, well, we know that you would anyway. Go somewhere else peacefully and quietly--don't make a scene. Or else some associate will give you a few suggestions of where you could go.

Monday, May 16, 2005


Another one bites the dust and Tommy makes a bust.

Cable television's second greatest show, Cheaters, is in serious disarray. I've been a fan of the show since I ran across it while out in East Texas. What I thought to be just a local access funfest (as it's based and filmed primarily in D-Town), I later realized to be the global phenomenon that it is today. I was led in innocently enough by a man by the name of Tommy Grand (with that name, you wonder if he has another profession). Dressed in a black mock turtle neck, nice pleated slacks and donning a long, black leather trench and armed with a permenant five o'clock shadow, a booming baritone and a little handheld video camera which he uses to display the very worst of human behavior to suspicious spouses, Tommy embodies a modern, Sherlockian, smooth superhero--a Robin Hood, if you will, of the underworld--defender of the little man (and woman). And when you see him in public (especially if he's jumping out of a white van with limo tint followed by a camera crew, boom mic and your significant other), run like hell or your cable television debut is about to crash upon you.

A still shot from the Tommy Grand Mini Van Cam. Cheap wine gets 'em everytime.

Tommy Grand made his sad and mysterious departure from the show over two years ago and can only be spotted in his greatness on re-runs. He was replaced by a dashing and tenacious young whippersnapper named Joey Greco.

Fire in his eyes.

Don't get me wrong, Joey has his wonderful attributes as a host. C'mon, the kid got knifed for crying out loud. But he's cold. Sometimes barrelling over guests and leaving the broken-hearted with only half the answers and twice the confusion--rarely seeking resolve. He likes the spotlight--his chance to show the world that he's not just another four-eyed twerp with a chip on his shoulder--no, he's machine, an emotionless and methodical robohost. They're night and day the two of them which explains why they couldn't possibly co-host, switch off between episodes. So now, here's my top three reasons (trust me, my mental list is about twenty marks long) why Tommy Grand needs to be brought back to save Cheaters from, well, I hate to say it, cancellation.

You know it if you've seen it. And if you've seen it, you'll swear it's the most insanely remarkable move ever. Besides being one of the most dynamic host in television history, he's also a col' pimp. He's like the Billie Dee Williams of reality television. Lady catches her boy cheating on her. The situation hits the fan and girl leaves in emotion wreck. On the ride back to the studio, Tommy pulls the ultimate in smooth moves. He starts with a single hand rub on the shoulder. Nodding his head and quietly, subtly interjecting with short words and phrases of agreement as the victim of love-gone-bad gets it out of her system. Gradually it turns into an arm across the back. Next thing you know, right before we disappear into a commercial break, Tommy's in near-full embrace, tears have dried and we're nothing but smiles. Sure, it's kinda sleazy, but Tommy knows a good opportunity when he sees one. How do you think he landed the gig in the first place? And as the girl hops out of the mini van with one relationship ended and a new one just begun, Tommy cooly closes with, "Call me." Yeah. If you've heard those words, you swore for that moment you were the luckiest gal in the galaxy. That's how good Tommy is.

Man, if you're on the business end of these words, you're the loneliest cat in the world. Tommy has incredible mastery of language. He speaks like a powerful preacher--using almost biblical dialect with such ease as he verbally lashes at the red-handed love bandit. The look of utter confusion on the face of cheaters is a testimony to his verbal ability. When he jumps out of the van and unloads his five minute assault of interrogatives and accusations, the only suitable reply is an open mouth of amazement and bewilderment, then gather your entrails and apologize.

If he's not trying to pick you up like a weepy bridesmaid at her best friend's wedding, he like an angry father going for the jugular on some punk who just cheated on his daughter. Now, we know how vicious he can be during what they call the "confrontation," but his true fatherly instinct really shines during the briefing in which he is "forced" as part of his obligation as a private investigator (yes, I question his credentials as well) and what the show calls the "right to know," to fully inform his client by forcing them to watch the ever-painful video survelliance of their straying lover. And, man, let me tell you, some of this video footage their clients are forced to watch has GOTTA be painful. Tommy starts by saying, "I have some video to show you, [clients name], and this is going to be painful," and ends by Tommy, in disgust, closing the LCD viewer on the camcorder saying, "It makes me sick, [clients name], to see [cheaters name] doing this to you. It's just disgusting and heartless. You deserve so much better than this, [clients name]." Almost Cosby-like.

Oh, crap, gotta go. Another great Tommy Grand episode of Cheaters on WB.

Sick 'em, Tommy.


For those who tuned in today or yesterday, you might have noticed the Album of the Week was Definitive Jux's very own Perceptionists, Black Dialogue. However, after only a day, it was yanked from my car's cd player and shoved back into a box. I hate to change it so quickly, but the Album of the Week is reserved for albums with my ultimate endorsement, albums you know during the course of that week that it's all I'm listening to. I heard enough in a day of the Perceptionists to make a decision that it was not worth listening to for a week. Mr. Lif, Akrobatik and Fakts One are all supernice, but this album was flat pancakes. Don't know what all these writers are listening to because all of the reviews were promising, but, eh, couldn't do it. Maybe it needs a few more months in the vaults, you know, age it a little. Speaking of, I think I let the new Album of the Week age enough. And now, in the ultimate move of betrayal against the underground that I hold so dear, I'm trading in the Perceptionists for thug-thuggin', gun-totin', Compton-representin' Game's Documentary. Yeah, I'm so late that the record's already multi-platinum and I've still yet to listen to it in it's completion. That's it for now. Love your neighbor.

Sunday, May 15, 2005


Okay, I was about to head to bed, but I came across this picture that I just had to throw up on THE ROOT DOWN before I got my week going. I know this is really random, but, hey, random's what I'm good at. Back when my lovely wife was working at Dillards during graduate school, I was visiting her one day when I came across this "signage" (that's the retail word) which featured a small boy sporting some cool shorts and a polo shirt. I was struck by how horribly disturbing the kid was that I insisted to be able to take the picture home. People were kinda weirded out by my request. But I insisted that it was only because the kid was so creepy looking. My wishes were granted as my wife brought home the picture after the sale was completed. I scanned it into my computer and used it as my wallpaper for some time. After I changed my wallpaper, the kid disappeared deep into the hard drive of my ol' dinosaur computer. But he miraculously made it to my faster, sleeker machine. And now I now present to you: The Creepy Dillards Kid.

For crying out loud, the kid's got fangs. What was the photographer/creative director going for here? That's not a smile, that's the face a dog makes when he growls. This is not cute, this is downright scary. Let him haunt you for weeks to come like Cage from Pet Semetary. Have a great week. Clint/Deslyn visit on Thursday and Friday. Danny's birthday-summer-anniversary-severeweatherseason celebration on Saturday.


After suffering from some sort of spinal-sinus-digestive-respritory funk (in that order), I'm alive and kicking. So much, I did some yardwork today which is a huge improvement from two days ago. Man, good thing I don't get sick often. Yanks are starting to play pretty good baseball. Congrats guys, now you're actually earning part of those inflated salaries. Of course, 8 straight wins still only gets them to .500, but Baltimore and my beloved Sox are gonna have to start payin attention. Sorry, back to my week. Managed to make it to work on Friday and get some work done. It'll make Monday a bit more bearable. I can't remember the last time I missed two consecutive days to illness. Whatever it was that sidelined me, I hope I never see it again. If I do, I'll go to a doctor (whimp). Sorry, what water, Vitamin C and rest can't conquer, better take it to the professionals. Decided to muscle it around a little yesterday by playing ball for a couple of hours--probably not the best move, but a little exersion never hurt no one. Finished it off by sharpening my teeth on a HUGE chicken fried steak last night with sides of cole slaw, mac and cheese, whole kernel corn and mash potatoes. Oh yeah, had some cornbread too. I think my stomach shrank to almost half it's normal size this last week with my lack of appetite because I only finished about half of the meal. Good thing because if I had managed shovel all that food down my gully, I'd sure be hurting today. Good ol' Boy Clint from East Texas pulled through today with his fiancee Deslyn. Good to see them both. Alright, to prevent me from rambling, I'm gonna end it now and wrap up some laundry. Everyone have a fine week.

Yankees suck. Still.


Man, this record is a beast. I really didn't like it as much as Personal Journals the first time I heard it, but given about 15 listens over this last week, I was convinced of it's greatness. Sage Francis is a rare breed in this day of hip hop--one part seasoned battle cat, one part beatnik and one part cocky elitist--the gruffy grandfather of hip hop--even if only in his late 20s. But to hear him on record is an definitely different hip hop experience--it always has been. For that reason, many have dismissed him as a fifteen minute fad of hip hop's underground while others have outrightedly accused him for the downfall of hip hop as we know it. Either way, Sage never ceases to spark thought, emotion and even inspiration. Distrust is a monster--moving between viciously tenacious and quietly somber to jostle the listener for the duration. From beginning to fin, Sage is like a disturbed and rattled animal victoriously breaking from the locks of his cage to bring havoc to those who have beaten him down in year's past. And like a ferocious pit bull with clinching jaws, no matter how hard you cry and how loud you scream, he won't stop until bones pop. Haters, keep hating--Sage is finally getting paid.

Wednesday, May 11, 2005


Please join me in wishing my brother a Happy 30th Birthday! Man, thirty years--unbelievable. Your package is in the mail as of tomorrow. Please forgive me for being late on the beat. At least I'm a few hours early on the birthday wish. Just wanted to make sure it was up by 12:01am, May 12th. I hope your 30th is everything you wish it would be. I hate not being there to celebrate with you, but I'm sure your circle of friends and your lovely wife will find some way to get you into some trouble. Again, be on the lookout in the mail. Love you, Bro.


At home today, sick as a dog. Sinus problems, my back's killin me. Think I'm falling apart. Don't know what it was. I don't get sick all too often and if less often does it make it so difficult to go to work. Anyway, there's very little that happens when I am sick beyond drinking gallons of water and watching a lot of daytime television. Man, now I know why I work. I got Family Feud, people cooking, Little House on the Prarie, 10 Best Hotels in the World, some old Western, more people cooking, Design on a Dime, Tony Little rocking some excercise equipment, man, I can hear my braincells leaving me. Wait, police videos on A&E. Hmm. It's not COPS, but something of the nature. A&E to the rescue--it'll work for a while. I can't believe people watch this crap all day long. I know I watch some really horrible programming (mainly because my wife tells me so), but this 9:00 block is the very definition of cable wasteland. Probably should just go back to sleep. Well, there's always Sportscenter, but I already watched it four times over the course of my sleepless morning. Anyhow, hope everyone's having a better day day than I. I'll be back in the swing of things tomorrow hopefully. I'm going to try and nail this out with fluid, rest and Vitamin C--the old fashion way.


Let me just do every customer a huge favor and disspell a common misconception. When you threaten to tell the president of the company, most associates shut down mentally. Here's why: usually when someone is pushed to that level of unhappiness, there's nothing that can be done to remedy the situation. So with it already being a lost cause and, since again, the associate is getting paid hardly anything anyway, do you think he/she is actually going to care about you telling the president of the company? What the customer is wishing and hoping for here is the president of the company will magically appear out of a small lamp like a Genie and fire the associate on the spot and then give the customer some sort of compensation for their hardship so that they'll come back next week and harass another associate. And, for the associate, this is sometimes best-case scenario because then they don't have to finish their shift and can go look for another poor-paying job helping jerk customers. This will, normally, get a response from the manager of the joint because, well, he's got more on the line, but remember that any compensation that comes out of these situations is really just something to get you to shut up and leave to the glaring eyes of every associate in the store. Another reason this is very ineffective and usually results in poor customer service is this is commonly an idle threat. These instances are rarely reported to the president of the company and even more rarely result in any sort of action. Store associates know this. So, my advice, use that breath use would use to spout off idle threats and, like every normal human, calmly and politely voice your dissatifaction and be gone and stop fishing for freebies like a bottomfeeder.

Monday, May 09, 2005


This was one of my most awkward rap hands moments because, well, Vast Aire (of Cannibal Ox--wake up, dummies) is a fairly large fella, as you can see. It's especially difficult to pop the hands up against a guy so large without looking like Joe C.

So what I opted to do did with Vast Aire in hesitation (of Cannibal Ox who recorded a superdef record called Cold Vein back in 2001, produced by El-P) is, instead of throwing the typical "sideways scissors" or "Westsiiiiiiiiide!" move

(because Cannibal Ox, who Vast Aire is a member of, rep New York to the fullest), I opted for the "point". Sure, many might accuse me of looking a little starstruck (as the "point" will often make one look in pictures), but I figured it was probably better to not act like we go way back, like we went to grade school together. By implementing the "point," you're saying, "Hey look! It's Vast Aire of Cannibal Ox fame and he's HUGE!" I can't really explain the facial expression here although it completes the statement by saying, "Yeah, dude, b'lee dat." One day, you might find yourself in a similiar situation. Don't be afraid of the "point". Sure, it's unconventional, but sometimes it satisfies the moment.

Buy the Cannibal Ox record Cold Vein at your local Hastings.

Sunday, May 08, 2005


From back in the retail days. There are twenty top ways to ensure yourself bad customer service and all have been documented. I'll post just one at a time since, well, the list of twenty is quite large and might be difficult to read in one sitting as I know your time is valuable. Anyhow, thanks to Scumdog Steev for resurrecting the list at

I'm not really sure when this used to work, but for all the lamebrains out there that believe that this gives the associate added incentive to help you---you've been lied to badly. Insulting the associate usually is answered with one thing: bad service. Sure, it can be answered with many other things (i.e. gut punch, swift donkey kick, clever comeback, crotch shot, spit and so on), but all lead to the same thing and that, my friends, is an unpleasant shopping experience. Don't talk down to associates. They don't get paid enough to put up with your lip and certainly don't want to take it for the company. Usually a physical retaliation is quite rare, but you should expect the worst if you mouth off to an associate. It doesn't help a situation and it is completely uncalled for--even if you're 100 percent right. Reason being this: bad vibes travel faster than chubby kids to the candy isle. What you deal out will come right back to you. Be cool. Associates in the retail environment take more crap than is even imaginable and you, John or Jane Q. Idiot, might very well be the breaking point. You know when you hear about people that go on rampages and do really bad things? Chances are they worked retail at one time. Walk lightly. We're ready to bite and usually are just looking for a reason. When a customer spouts off, the fuse has been lit. Run like hell's on your heels.

Friday, May 06, 2005



Mariano blows another walking two in the 10th inning while his teammates commit two errors in the same frame as the lowly A's score 3 to win 6-3. Guess the hecklers at work will finally shut up and get some work done. Jax was busy all night detailing why Trot Nixon is his favorite player--mainly because he's a scrapper and plays not only to win, but to get dirty--just like him.

Meanwhile, Clement pitches a gem against the Mariners and Papi goes deep. Sox win 7-2.




I'm a little late, but friends, please join me in wishing Danny (The Original 50 Cent or City Fence because of copyright issues) a very happy 28th. We're getting old, son! Here he is Halloween, 2004 dressed up as, you guessed it, Fiddy himself. Sure, Danny's not black , nor has he sold a g'zillion records, nor is he flexing that gangsta gap in his teeth or the 9 holes in his torso, but peep the chain, the hat and that Lubbock sizzurp, Keystone Light. That's my boy--straight slummin'.

Danny, happy birthday, bud. Better late than never. You know real gangsta's never rush. Haha. We'll catch up over a cold one.

Going to mow the lawn. Have a good weekend, everyone.

Thursday, May 05, 2005


Ah, baseball's in full swing. I know, the image is a little rash, but you gotta love a kid who knows how to heckle. And, hey, he knows how to pick his team. Boston's not leading the division (yet) but the only thing that makes it so much sweeter is seeing the Yankees in a tie for LAST PLACE with the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. Congrats, Yankees, for being the only team in professional sports to crack $200 million and find yourself in last place after thirty games have passed. Maybe if Torre and Steinbrenner paid more attention to their Spanks and not their two horses racing in this weekend's Kentucky Derby, they might win a few games, but, eh, screw 'em. Brushback Bronson pitched a gem today in Detroit taking a no-no into the 7th as the Sox won their third straight and we got Clement on the mound tomorrow starting a 3-game home series against the Mariners. Schilling and Wells on the disabled list and who cares? Take your time, guys, we'll hold it down until your healthy. Oh yeah, and Wade Miller makes his Boston debut against the Mariners on Saturday.

Onto the Celtics, who I missed on Tuesday thanks to ESPN and ESPN2 who managed to find more "important" programming than the NBA playoffs. Our two softball games were "rained" out even though it didn't rain and hadn't for two days and, the best part, my wonderful grandparents drove 2 hours up from Lubbock to watch me play. Well, we didn't play, but I crashed a bowl of macaroni at Furrs with chopped steak and onions and came home just in time to see my C's squeeze out a game on the road to force a game seven IN BOSTON ON SATURDAY. This game will be televised, no doubt and I'll be watching with an ice cold Shiner. Sure, tonight's game wasn't pretty, but it's not how you win, it's if you win and we're playing another game. That's all I'm concerned about.

As far as our little buddy that led off this post, who knows, maybe he's not making an obscene gesture at an opposing team. Just imagine he's in the middle of ordering two more beers--one for him and one for his sister. Happy Friday everyone.

Wednesday, May 04, 2005


Sarah, wonderful friend and lovely wife to another life-long friend, has been accepted into University of Texas' Graduate program for Speech Pathology. UT's a tough school and they only take tough students (except for those morons that I always run into at Tech games in Lubbock) and that's why our little Sarah (she's all growns up!) kicked the door down.

So please let me public offer a hearty CONRATS to Sarah. Better get your first-day-of-school outfit ready.


Beauty and the Beat is a sonicly spectatular and vividly mindblowing as layers upon layers of sounds, thumps and (gasp) melodies relentlessly assault the listener while Edan and esteemed guests spit verse for verse til the very end. Find me a bigger banger than the appropriately titled "Rock and Roll" and I'll gladly will you my lucky Sox hat and wear a Spankees hat until a sweat ring appears. NY legend Percee P guests along with Boston native Mr. Lif. And for those who dig for deep catalogue, check out Edan's Primitive Plus.

Edan appreciates your support.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005


Just need to take a moment to wish my lovely grandma a HAPPY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!


A youngin in Clovis, NM was suspected of bringing a rifle to school. Yeah, scary situation. But when the school officials questioned the student about his supposed "weapon," they found it was no weapon at all. In fact, it was a 30" burrito wrapped in foil.

Now, with all due respect to the hard-working news teams out there, I think we're missing the real news story here. Not that we don't want our kids to be safe or that we don't want to keep a watchful eye on what's coming into our schools, but I think the real story is: WHERE ON EARTH DO YOU BUY A 30-INCH BURRITO AND WHAT TIME DO THEY OPEN?

The following gas face is for all cable networks for NOT TELEVISING THE CELTICS/PACERS GAME TONIGHT. ESPN is showing professional athletes attempting to bowl and ESPN2 is airing a college baseball game. Guess I'll crack that 6 pack on Thursday night, I mean, unless there's other sports more important than the NBA playoffs.

ESPN and ESPN2, here's your gas face:

Monday, May 02, 2005


My fascination with COPS started as a young boy when it debuted in the 7 slot, Saturday nights on Fox. I'd watch without blinking on my small black and white television and marvel as the action unfolded. And now, I pay homage, not to the police force necessarily, but to COPS--where white trash takes the stage and the breaks are two intense minutes of cheap life insurance and mobile home commercials. So here it is, WHY COPS IS THE BEST SHOW ON TELEVISION (STILL)

1) TASER GUNS I've said it before and I'll say it again, the taser gun, on top of being one the most effective, non-lethal means of rendering a subject harmless, it's also the most entertaining. When you see some cat take the taser to the backside and drop to the ground, I challenge you to find a more riveting method of takedown. To see a "stunning" testimony of the taser's power, check this out:

2) TRAILER PARKS Never lived in one and only travelled through them, never to them, but how incredible that you can visit a new one every night. I've been in some really dumping trailers, some really nice trailers, met some fantastic people and some that, well, I wouldn't want to be within a bullwhip's distance of. Regardless, it's much like travelling to an exotic land, except there's no beaches, palm trees. There's no nice hotels with hot tubs or fancy rich people. Actually, it's nothing like traveling to an exotic land at all. Man, I better watch myself or my name might be Larry and these might be my neighbors:

3) THE FOOT CHASE Nothing like actually being in the chase. The camera man throws the camera on his shoulder and takes off like a true champ. What's better is when you can hear the cameraman weezing as he finds himself short of breath. What's even better is when the cop goes short of breath. I suppose coffee, donuts and cigarettes does not constitute a well-rounded diet. But, I tell you what, I've see some big boys get their run on catch some fast criminals. It gives hope to big guys like me. Hey, I had my first triple this year. Of course, I pulled my first quad in the process.

4) THE COPS MARATHON Cable television has made a killing off of COPS reruns. These marathons pop up like dandelions in cable wasteland. You'll be sitting around after lunch on a Saturday afternoon and you'll barge in on the top of like a rediculous 8-hour marathon of COPS. If you're really lucky, you'll catch those early episodes where all the cops have those cheesy cochese moustaches and use a lot of police jargon. Regardless, you're never short of episodes--one day I counted three different marathons going on at the SAME TIME. Insanity.

5) RAW AND UNCUT It's rare that you can experience such a raw television experience these days. Shows are so silly how they lead you along with suggestive commentary and clues that you're supposed to pick up on. Not COPS. It's three 8 minute episodes--each one a complete experience from the call from the dispatcher to the cuffs on the criminal. There's no dubbed-in commentary, no flashy cuts, no steady-cam, no background music. The cops sometimes are heroes while at other times their as much at fault, but it's up to the viewer to make their determination. No one forces it upon you. Even the news is so suggestive and biased these days making me appreciate COPS even more.

6) THE 30 MINUTE FORMAT You can leave whenever you want. You never feel forced to stick around or tune in next week. Each episode leaves you feeling completely fulfilled (unless you're an addict like me). You can just watch one 8-minute cuffing and say, "Wow, that was cool. Wanna play rummikub?" You can't do that in the middle of, say ER or even a Seinfeld episode. You have to watch til the very end and, in some cases, you have to stay tuned for the entire season because these networks gotta sell advertising. COPS doesn't concern itself with all of that corporate crap.

7) THE "BAD BOYS" THEME SONG Inner Circle was a great reggae band. Now they're just the group that performs the COPS theme song. It's not a great song, but it does what it needs to. Man, when I hear that "huh!" that kicks off the intro, it's like the conch has sounded--I run to the closest television and watch til I'm red-eyed.

8) ROADSIDE SOBRIETY TESTS You never know what will happen. Some guy thinks he's Superman and tries to do a backflip before almost cracking his head open on the curb. Some woman takes a swing at a cop. Some go kicking and screaming. Some take off running (I've found most drunk people make it only about a half a block before either passing out in someone's lawn or running into a street light). And, sometimes, you have the quiet drunk who just happily cooperates. Either way, drunks may be bad for society, but they're great for television.

9) THE "STING" Man, nothing like the look on a guy's face when he thought he picked up a prostitute and found out it was cop when five armed officers pop out of the hotel bathroom. That or when you purchase weed from a guy on the street and peculiarly repeats the phrase "It's all good, it's all good," at the end of the transaction. I've found, if you're ever trying to score drugs on the street and the dealer says one short three-word phrase more than two times, just go ahead and lay on the ground with your palms to the air because there's two cops on foot and two in unmarked patrol cars at both ends of the block ready to drop you like a part-time job.

10) S.W.A.T. TEAMS The sound of a door blown off the hinges by a seventy-pound battering log makes me tear up. In fact, I'm reaching for the Kleenex box just thinking about it. Again, it's the element of surprise. Always fun when they do the early morning busts--they stake out the place all night and kick your door down at 5:30 in the morning and you find yourself with a cop's knee across your Adam's apple and a hand-cannon pointed right between your eyes. You're feet haven't even hit the floor and your asking for a new pair of britches. How embarrassing would that be if your folks were in town to visit, sleeping on the pull out bed in the living room and it happens to be "your morning." "Mom, dad, I didn't want you to find out this way."

That's it. Time for bed.

This post dedicated to the great and lovely Steve Guttenberg.


"Guys! Can you believe this?! We really DO suck!" Posted by Hello


I got a serious late pass on this record because, well, I don't listen to a lot of rock records and it takes years before I discover the great records that rock has to offer, but this has got to be one of the most beautiful modern rock records I've ever heard. The melodies, the instrumentation...everything is in the right place. It's stunning. Go to your local Hastings and pick up this record. You'll smile, laugh, sing along, sob and dance your col' ass off. I'm gonna go over the top (it doesn't take much) and say this record restored my faith in today's rock music.


Me and my boy are tight. So when he dropped by the office for some tips on how to hit it off with the ladies, I told him to never forget the RAP HANDS. Ladies like the men to be sensitive, bring flowers, maybe even cry a bit. But once you pull out the rap hands, it gives you that street edge that sets you apart from most loverboys. It says, "I know the moves. I'm hip hop. I'm down. But I can slow it down for the ladies." He wasn't convinced at first, but then I provided examples of good rap hands: Snoop, Em, Puffy, hell, even Justin Timberlake will throw a rap hand out there and they ALL get mad honeys--and sell alot of records. Here he is with his first attempt and a dandy at that. With four fingers, it's difficult to represent and makes it impossible to claim a gang affiliation, but you can always do what he does below, just throw the open hand up with the fingers close together, palm down and wrist slightly bent. He'll get it soon.

everybody's got something to hide, except for me and my monkey Posted by Hello

Sunday, May 01, 2005


And just when you think it couldn't get any worse, imagine yourself on the receiving end of this here Bruce Lee punch.


In the coming weeks, months or possibly years, we will analyze the peculiar and sometimes disturbing behavior of one Jackson the Beagle. Rescued from the Amarillo SPCA ("rescued" is overstating it a bit--he was only there for one hour and was running free around the office), there is often mystery behind his actions. Of course, we know nothing of his parents, previous owners, travels, etc. In fact, for a while, we questioned whether or not he was actually a beagle because he dwarfs most beagles by at least four inches. All we know is he's here and he has really bad breath. We'll uncover more later. But for now, please, let me introduce you to Jackson.

this dog will take you for all you own Posted by Hello


Take, for instance, the almighty Snoop. A few backstage passes, a couple of secret handshakes, and remember the rap hands:

No, I don't know these guys. Just note the hands.

No, this was from a recent visit to the AMA. Had passes through the label (thank you Interscope) and had a wonderful time with Snoop who could have quite possibly might have been one of the nicest guys in the business. I ain't too proud to be a little starstruck--it was definitely cool. But when Snoop says, "Block the door," like Nike says, just do it. Oh, and note the rap hands to the right.

(from left) harley, mahan, snoop and tall, dark and handsomePosted by Hello


I've noticed recently that my street has become quite the drag for our friendly neighborhood mod squad. You see, as I grow older, I'm not as privy to the new toys out there, but I noticed these new little scooters that kids are riding. Like Mini-bikes. All day long (even on weekdays, sometimes--do these kids not go to school?!) you hear this buzz going up and down my street and I'm freaking tired of it.

I figure if they're sharing the streets with me on a motorized vehicle, then it should require a license. I mean, even my tiny Boggs the Honda Civic would obliterate one of these little maggots if they mistakenly swung in front of my bumper at even half the legal speed limit. I don't know who is gonna help me in my cause, but we gotta take the power back. I'm calling up Ponch. We're taking it back like Leif Garrett.

How we gonna kick it? Gonna kick it


Thanks to Chrissy for turning me onto AQUA TEEN HUNGER FORCE. Scored Season Three at my local Hastings for a mere $6...I'm officially hooked. Strongly recommended viewing.

Meatwad is the illest.



With Antoine Walker sitting out a one-game suspension for (coughing) pushing an official (whimp), Paul Pierce (aka Born Winner) used the Pacers as his doormat as he reduced Reggie Miller's remaining games as a professional athlete down to 2 games. Hey, Reg, there's always opportunities in commentating. That or you can spend your weekends hanging out with Karl Malone and Patrick Ewing taking about how close you came to winning a championship, but never could seal the deal.

All the while, Larry Legend watches emotionlessly from behind the Pacers' bench--man, I can never get used to that.

We're going back to Boston with our horns locked at 2 a piece. 'Toine's back and the C's are full throttle. We're gonna kill em.

In other sports news, I knew the freakin Orioles were gonna turn heads, but no one listened. Now both my beloved Sox and the Spankees are busy looking at their backsides as they're burning everyone in the AL East. The Sox are fine--even without two key starters. No panic yet. Our bats need to get going as they did last night as they pounded that other Texas team (no, not the Astros--the other team...that Pay Rod used to play for), 9-2.

If you are not redirected to a feeling of infinite enlightenment and happiness, please stay tuned as non-sports posts are sure to follow in the days to come.

Otherwise, welcome to my little piece of real estate in this vast, confusing, anonymous electronic universe.

How we gonna kick it? Gonna kick it