YELLOW SNOW THAT YOU CAN EAT

What I woke up to this morning. A storm that can only be described through adjectives "biblical" or "apocalyptic" landed on the Yellow yesterday. It snowed from about 2AM on Friday morning to about midnight that night--a good 22 hours. I forgot how difficult it was for me to stay in the house all day. I couldn't do it. I got up at "Bat Time" (5:30) and actually went to work with about three inches already on the ground. I get to work to find out that the office is closed less due to the weather at the time, but rather the weather that was to come. About two hours of work in, a director comes by and says, "If you plan on getting out of here, I'd do it now. It's getting thick out there."

I finished up a few emails and took him up on his precautionary comment and went to the store. C'mon, I needed entertainment. Seemed like a fine time to head by my local entertainment retailer and spend some dough. I rented W. and bought Beck's Sea Change and Madlib's King of the Wigflip on vinyl and headed home. Upon arriving, I found my lovely wife and two beagles cuddled up in bed where I expected them. Watched a little "90210"--the old episodes, the dope ones. C'mon, old "90210" was ill. Made some low sodium soup and watched W. Decent movie. Amazing how Oliver Stone doesn't hold any punches. No question on where he stands...ever.

Snow was still coming down. Snowing sideways. A phenomenon that meteorologists have termed a "blizzard"--a storm with often heavy snowfall and high winds. Check on both. The temperature was such, though, that the roads were relatively clear still. So, because of that, I made another trip to the store to pick up more entertainment. This time, I bought a book (yeah, can you believe that?), a Frommers guide to NYC for our August trip, Mystic River, a Hank Mobley CD and a Donald Byrd CD. Now, I was ready to be snowed in. Headed back to the house. Still snowing. (now flipping over to side D of Sea Change)

Worked a bit on the Black Moon mix. Black Moon's Enta da Stage I hold in quite high regard. There's few hip hop records from the early 90s that still sound as good. I can think of about fifteen records. Now, that's a lot of records, but as a percentage of the flood that hit market back in, say, 1991-1993, it's hardly that much. I read a quote the other day about Enta da Stage that hit me: "Though the album's success is largely attributable to Buckshot's performance, one cannot ignore the phenomenal production from the Beatminerz. They took the already dark sound of Low End Theory and one-upped it, filtering out almost all treble and using spare, hardcore drum samples. The compositions of Mr. Walt and Evil Dee are also cleverly structured, propelling Buckshot's raps directly into the listener's psyche. The crackle of scratched vinyl pervades the album, contributing to the feel of warmth and timelessness. Thanks to the Beatminerz, there is something inviting about Enta da Stage, despite its confrontational lyrics." Mr. Walt and Dee's attention to the production of the album, the feel of the album. These days, it's all punchlines. No one gives a good damn about production anymore. Except for my man (puts on the Madlib record again).

This new MF Doom record is a beast. I got Clint blowing up the phone quoting his favorite lyrics. Speaking of, check out this clip of Mos Def in the studio geeking out on old Doom lyrics. "How you gon' sell crack and talk about it? That's the point of selling crack is that it's a secret," speaking of Doom's darker days on the street. Good material here, folks.

Ill material from "Beef Rap." Sometimes you dull out to his skills when you listen to it so often. "He wears a mask just to cover the raw flesh / A rather ugly brother with flows that's gorgeous / Drop dead joints hit the whips like bird shit / They need it like a hole in they head or a third tit / Her bra smell, his card say: aw hell / Barred from all bars and kicked out the Carvel' / Keep a cooker where the jar fell / And keep a cheap hooker that's off the hook like Ma Bell / Top bleeding, maybe fella took the loaded rod gears / Stop feeding babies colored sugar-coated lard squares / The odd pairs swears and God fears / Even when it's rotten, we've gotten through the hard years / I wrote this note around New Year's / Off a couple a shots and a few beers, but who cares? / Enough about me, it's about the beats / Not about the streets and who food he about ta eat / A rhymin cannibal who's dressed to kill, it's cynical / Whether is it animal, vegetable, or mineral / It's a miracle how he get so lyrical / And proceed to move the crowd like a old Negro spiritual." That's incredible.

Yeah, back to the storm. Sorry, I could listen to Mos quote Doom all day. Found out the other day that Doom voted for McCain. You'll never figure that dude out. One last Doom feature and then we're back to snow.

Side B of Madlib. You know, forethought would've suggested that getting the snow shovel out of the shed prior to receiving 11 inches of snow would've been a good idea so I could hit the driveway this morning. So, here's a photo that I took about a week ago of my two boys in the yard.

Ah, warm sun and a nice cozy bed of grass. It ain't all green yet, but it's on it's way back. It's been the warmest winter and spring that I can remember. It ain't even been close to winter down here. Until this happened:Tucker was certainly the more adventurous of the two (or just stupid). Dude barked to go outside so he could ingest frozen turds in the back yard. This is how beagles search for frozen feces. I don't get him sometimes. Love him to death, but don't take any kisses from him until we get this little problem figured out.Overall, they're saying that we got somewhere between 6.9 and 11 inches. You're left guessing when you have 50 MPH wind gusts. Hard to get the totals. Either way, it's enough to give the yard a boost on the meltdown. My mother's celebrating her 60th today in Lubbock. I-27 is said to be open. Getting out of the driveway might be the trickiest part. About to start working on that.

A few Root Down lowriders are left, but the dog-sized tee is gone.

The family's rooting for Mizzou. Screw OU and the Griffin boys. Holla.