Friday, August 04, 2006

He's a Lethal Weapon

How have I found myself defending my apt criticisms of the hypocrite/bigot/narcicist Mel Gibson lately? Are people seriously this brainwashed by their own religion that they can find a way spin this hilarious saga in a way that still protects this man? It's absolutely mind-numbing.

Unfortunately this mega bazillionaire won't likely feel the brunt from Hollywood's big wigs for long, and even if he did you can expect the Christian Right to claim martyrdom.

I hardly care about Hollywood news, but this issue has reached beyond the normal "hot hollywood couple" spat to a topic worthy of discussion on a greater scale.

Fuck Mel Gibson!

Sunday, August 21, 2005


Last monday my good buddy Maddoo and the ever disgruntled but awesome Kryss Cho went to see Metallagher and Thor at the Triple Rock. I think Maddoo and his gal were expecting a riff-laden date, a night out of metal licks and guitar tricks. Instead I showed up and performed the ritual of the third wheel, which made things a little awkward at first.

Metallagher is a Metallica cover band with a Gallagher impersonater as their front man. It's a funny gimmick, and the band can actually cover the songs of old Metallica relatively fluently. While riffing on "Ride the Lightning" a watermelon or two is smashed at the pinnacle of the guitar solo. A good bit, and I wish I would have thought of it. That said, it wasn't the show that I was craving until...


Here's a bit of history from Thor's website that might help describe the show:

Starting out in Vancouver, THOR first made waves in the bodybuilding world, becoming Mr. Canada and Mr. USA, always using heavy music as an intensive training tool. He blended his powerful physique with powerful rock, and thus began this amazing cult legend's long reign in the hazy area between superstardom and the dark underground.

Along the way he has become a movie actor and producer, turning out collectible classics like Rock & Roll Nightmare, Zombie Nightmare, Graveyard, and others. Most recently, THOR is appearing in the upcoming USA Network movie Murder At The Presidio, and starring in the soon-to-be-released The Intercessor. And even more movie news will be released soon.
(Keep checking for updates).

Theatrical rock shows are awesome, and I encourage anyone who has never witnessed this novelty to visit the next time Thor comes through Minneapolis. Watching a 50 something former bodybuilder perform feats of strength on stage while donning Viking garb, and bellowing heavy metal lyrics about Valkyries and Thunderhawks might just be the all-encompassing rock package. "Anger...Anger is my middle name!"

Ruminating on the "Summer of no Shame".

This was to be the last, the end of an era so to speak. In mid May I decided that the Summer of 2005 was to be the last hurrah of debauchery, of living dangerously, of bloated livers and nagging headaches. Unfortunatly along the way financial burdens, cryptic anxieties, and an unkempt routine have made this Summer of 2005 a buzz kill of collosol proportions.

My company, that I founded 3 years ago with two of best friends has dissolved. It feels like I'm quitting on a dream, and moving on has been an excericise in poor choices and irritating trials. This crux that I've come upon in my life is both deflating and tiresome. I'm floating in the "between" stage, and it leaves very little time or money to dabble in the lost arts of carousing.

I'm embarrassed to admit that I've only brought up the sun once this summer.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Things I find Awesome 7/27/05

The List of Lists! Things I find awesome for the week of 7/27/05.

1. "Best Boy" - 1979 documentary about amentally retarded adult man who learns to live on his own with the help of his cousin and filmaker.

2. Cymande "Renegades of Funk" - I already own some Cyamande on vinyl, but this cd complilation does a brilliant job of tapping into all the great cuts. This shit is in full rotation for me right now.

3. No Mas T-Shirts - "Darryl Strawberry: Say No to Drugs", "Bo Can't Rap", "Pablo"...if I had money to burn I would likely be styling a different No Mas t-shirt for every day of the week.

4. Surprise Birthday Parties - For the first time in life I was treated to a surprise birthday party in my honor. I was speechless when I realized that the stack of gifts were for me! Thanks Sweet River!

5. Writing Headlines - Writing these ditties for hours and hours is either a brilliant stream of flittery words and phrases or a task feared for days. I love the anticipation of unloading on an empty page.

6. "The Mayor of Sunset Strip" - Meet the man who broke some of the most important music of the last 4 decades, Ronald Biggenheimer.

7. Ghostface "The Pretty Toney Album" - I slept on this when it first came out, and I've regretted it ever since. 9th Wonder production behind a grittier than ever Ghostface.

8. "Dry" by Augusten Burroughs - A gay alcoholic copywriter finds solace in the "steps" to recovery. Hilarious, disgusting, scary, and sad.

9. Burlesque Designs - Representing for Minne! I've started a collection that could become addictive.

10. Duane Jones - The undrafted rookie that the Timberpuppies just signed to a 3 year contract. A big defensive minded super beast!

Thursday, May 12, 2005

ATV's, The Chariots of the Damned.

ATV's damaged a trail? You don't say...

ATV's damage trail and The "Environmental Governor" is involved in an accident. (he he, sweet justice).

Oh My Lord! YESSSSSSSS! Posted by Hello

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

An Officer and a Gentleman

Another Banksy beauty. Posted by Hello

Monday, May 09, 2005

Exactly what I'm talking about

Ugh, Emo rap love-fest at it's most self-loathing. I bet they had a courtesy dry hump after this little ditty.


That's where it is I guess, you're either Slug/Sage Francis or a gun wielding sociopath macho deuche bag.

Please get the fuck out of my town.

Hey Cecil, people don't "think" it's Emo, they know it's Emo homeboy. If you don't understand that good hip-hop exists that doesn't include the yearning to nurse from your Mommy's teet then you're missing the big picture.

Friday, May 06, 2005

When Rappers get Soft

A friend of mine offered me a free ticket to the Atmosphere show last Sunday at First Avenue, a trip down memory lane I thought. What a joke. The Indy Rock band that has usurped the namesake of Minneapolis hip-hop over the last decade is nothing more and nothing less than a cruel joke.

I recall the day fondly, I was home for the holidays scrounging in every record store crate in town for some goodies to bring back to Bozeman, Montana. On my list of must haves were a series of Headshots mix-tapes performed by the members of the Rhymesayers collective. This is back in the day when the Root Cellar record store was an excellent place to find that one missing gem in your collection, when Cheapo's in St. Paul would frequently receive truckloads of records from the now grown up yuppies that had laid stake on the Mac-Groveland neighborhood, when Northern Lights in Downtown Minneapolis had just gone under, and Let It Be was the big dog, before there was a Fifth Element, and before there was a bonafied Minneapolis hip-hop scene. Soul Asylum had hit their pinnacle a few years earlier (good riddance), Prince was in hiding, Dillinger 4 were still playing crusty dive bars, and Minneapolis was in this weird post-grunge, Rave revival, Industrial phase. It was scary and I was glad that I lived in one of the most remote parts of the country. That said, I had heard a couple of the Headshots mix-tapes and immediately fell in love with Ant's production skills, the mic skills of Slug, Spawn, and Beyond (now Musab), and the vibe that was beginning to peak from under the surface in the Tundra.

That cold day in Minneapolis a friend that I was visiting brought me over to Electric Fetus to meet Sean Daley, a skinny pocked face guy a couple of years my Senior. He wasn't working, but a nice guy at the checkout desk said he would call him for me. It turned out that Sean A.K.A. Slug lived right down the street in the Stevens Square apartments, and he was nice enough to let me stop by to check out some of the new music he and his group Atmosphere were making. I knocked on the door and waited patiently. At the time I was the host KGLT's Beatdown radio program in Bozeman, Montana, and I had actually spoken to Slug a couple times prior trying to get him to send me some of the group's vinyl singles that he had just begun pressing (for the Overcast! album). Sean opened the door and invited me upstairs to his apartment. I commented on the number of cats I had seen in Minneapolis that day, and he replied that "Minneapolis is an apartment city, and nobody can have dogs", that made sense until he opened the door to his apartment and the sharp odor of kitty litter hit me in the face like a ton of bricks. I hate cats. Sean was a nice guy and as he searched his apartment for Scribble Jam video that he wanted to show me, I sat on the couch and smoked a cigarette. People came and went from the apartment while I sat there, rappers on the come-up, girlfriends, roommates etc. After about an hour of shooting the shit with El Sluggo he handed me a plastic bag filled with a few singles from the yet to be released Overcast! album, a Headshots mix-tape, and a list of hip-hop groups that he really enjoyed from his last trip to the West Coast. I shook his hand and said I would keep in contact as I walked myself out. This interaction would continue over the next couple of years, everytime I visited the Twin Cities. I held the utmost respect for the guy, and I still think he's in this biz for the right reasons, but something has gone terribly wrong in the last year or so.

Fast Forward to Sunday, May 1st. My friend Gini and I were upstairs at the all-ages Atmosphere show, imbibing and making fun of the teenage groupie hoochie that enveloped the main floor. The place smelled like Axe cologne and sweaty private parts, it was nauseating. After a great set by Grayskul, and an O.K. set by Doomtree's finest, P.O.S., Slug finally took the stage with his new band in tow. Over the next 45 minutes I felt betrayed, angry, and clouded by a subtle disbelief. What in the hell had become of Minnesota Hip-Hop! This wasn't rap music, this was a sad adult contemporary version of an older beta version of Atmosphere. An Emo epic, with wilting sob stories, and panned out "white funk" instrumentals. Where was Mr. Dibbs and his platter of bunker busting bomb beats? Where was the credibility? Where in God's name was the bass? Is this supposed to be dubbed hip-hop music anymore? I mean I'm not one to rely on genre titles, but this sounded more Cities 97 than Tha Break a Dawn.

I went home later that evening and collapsed onto my couch and listed to 3 entire Gang Starr albums from front to back before falling into a disturbed sleep.