I guess, unlike James Taylor, it's not that I really hate David Cook. It's just that he reminds me of all my inferiority. I don't sing (like that--I can sing and some might add that I can sing quite well), I wasn't voted to victory by millions of Americans and I don't have that beautiful smile. I'm jealous. It'll wear off. Especially when his record comes out.
Speaking of records, Lil Wayne is on pace to outsell Kanye's huge first week. Hell, he might go platinum in one week. Possible? Yep. Probable? Slightly. Funny how just earlier this year, industry insiders and writers (sometimes myself included--although I fall into neither category) were writing off the genre altogether.
Lil Wayne's first day number has got to be somewhere around 600,000 units. 1,000,000 might be within reach. It defies all logic really. In a day when they had written off rap's selling power and replaced it with the dreaded Tween Takeover where kid-focused drivel dominates the charts like Hannah Montana, The High School Musical Soundtrack, Jonas Brothers...Eeeeyuk, Brother J says, "Yuk." In a day when the mixtape game hit saturation point and there were numerous concerns about an mixtape-friendly artist like Wayne having his sales jeopardized by competing mixtape product. In a day where illegal downloading and sharing is at an all-time high with expendible income at an all-time low. In a day where it costs you about $10.00 a day just to get up, eat breakfast and go to work and then come home again. In a day where distrust and disconnect between fans and the industry over high-priced, low-quality product is most commonplace. A parental advisory title without the benefit of cross-format radio saturation and coming from a guy who definitely is not as PG-13 as Kanye Weezy. Yep, Lil Wayne put it back on track. Let's not forget that the rap game is the only genre that could potentially go platinum in a week. Ain't no Mariah Carey. Ain't no High School Musical. Ain't no U2. Ain't no System of a Down. No one can put up those kinda numbers like the rap game.
The real buzzkill of the day was this...
Yep, Boggs got broken into and had his after-market stereo swiped along with my air conditioning controls, iPod and use of my blinkers (which I found out at an intersection with some lady laying on her horn behind me--Relax, homey, you're only two minutes away in this town.) He didn't take my grandfather's old-ass golf clubs, my new softball glove (thank goodness) or the new Roots and Portishead records (which were laying on the seat and fingerprinted). Those albums are badass. Guess there's not much to be said for his taste. Guess, too, I can't assume that it was a dude. Maybe it was Angelina Jolie.
Funniest part is they cleaned out my glove compartment which consisted of an iPod (which has become a backseat player to Da Pocket Prophet and Da Pocket Preacher), a multi-tool and one of those leather sleeves that has car receipts and insurance except he took out my car insurance card and kindly set it on the floorboard. I thought that was pretty sweet of him.
Celtics lost last night too making my day a little worse. We still lead 2-1. I really wish that we could put them in an 0-3 hole in front of Jack Nicholson and Donald Sutherland. Have Rajon Rondo slap Steven Spielberg as he runs past him for putting out The Terminal. We'll see if we can do it on Thursday night. Either way, we got a ticket back to Boston, but it'd sure be nice to steal one in LA.
It's humpday. Holla atcha boy.