Friday, May 18, 2007
The Southern chapter of Razzyphiles makes good
Yesterday, I received several exciting dispatches from the Dirrty Dirrty, and it seems some serious congratulations are in order. BigBagel once again pulls far ahead of everybody in my pack of friends in terms of having the most awesome curriculum vitae in the universe, as now in addition to his Pulitzer and his stunning wife (LL Cool Jew), he has been awarded a prestigious fellowship from the Kaiser Family Foundation. This means he gets a huge salary increase compared to what he was making doing the Jimmy Olsen thing in the post-Katrina apocalypse that is southern Mississippi, as well as a computer which will be more suitable for playing the "one game to rule them all" (LOTR online, of course). This is all to facilitate his going for Pulitzer numero dos by writing articles about his specialty, post-traumatic stress disorder and general craziness among Hurricane Katrina survivors. Even more exciting, he and LL Cool Jew are relocating the Cool Jew-Bagel household to the 'Nolia.
Well, I doubt they'll move into the Magnolia Projects next door to Terius "Juvenile" Grey's cousins who have not stacked sufficient paper to ball outrageous elsewhere, but they are relocating to New Orleans. At least when I go visit, we'll have a considerably doper selection of strip clubs to choose from than in the greater Gulfport, MS area, and we'll be able to eat crawfish and drink hurricanes and shit like that. Furthermore, the chances of running into Angelina Jolie and hitting her in the face for being a pompous fucktard are markedly increased there, as are the chances of being able to stalk (hot as hell) Saints running back Reggie (Get in My) Bush. Also, consider me absolutely fucking tickled that they're living in a city famous for bitches flashing their tits, so I should fit right in. BigBagel better get some of his kinte cloth blankets and the spare futon ready for my imminent trip down there.
Also, LL Cool Jew informed me last night that their fellow Columbia J-school alum, Killer, is in the middle of a bidding war between three different publishing houses who want to buy the rights to his graphic novel retelling of Darwin's Origin of the Species for the 150th anniversary of its original publication. I love it when one of my friends/Razzyphiles gets a book deal, especially one who has earned my respect by being a seasoned whiskey drinker like Killer. And BTW, Killer, if you need a consultant who combines expert knowledge of both evolutionary biology and 19th century British naval expeditions to the far side of the world a la the HMS Beagle, holler at your girl! I can't draw a cormorant to save my life, but I can tell you all sorts of anecdotal tales about Darwin's life as a seafaring naturalist. For starters, he was not accustomed to winding down after a hard day battling the Napoleonic fleet, amputating childrens' arms without anasthesia save a belt of laudanum, and a hearty meal of weevil-infested hardtack by playing Mozart string duets with the captain like in Master and Commander.
Now, given BigBagel and Killer's impressive personal achievements, you might expect them to look something like this:
Those are some random Manhattan Project scientists showing their mastery of the fission reaction. They are some smart, very stoic guys, conducting their work in atomic physics with such sobriety as starting the nuclear arms race warrants. People presume that anyone conducting substantial work recognized by such august institutions as the Kaiser Foundation and major publishers of commemorative works would be as dapper, serious, and obviously brainy as the gentlemen above. Not in BigBagel and Killer's case.
Here's BigBagel, passed out on the altar of the synagogue at his own wedding rehearsal, from the lethal combination of tequila, Jaegermeister, and Jameson's that his "friends" forced down his throat at his bachelor party:
And here's Killer, anally fingering the Dirrty XXXtina blow-up doll (which really looks a LOT like Christina Aguilera) that I gave LL Cool Jew as a bachelorette party gift:
Giants among men, that's what I say. Veritable pillars of society.
The real winner in all of this may be LL Cool Jew, however, as she no longer has to slog her Michael Kors cork wedges through shin-deep hog wallows in Jefferson Davis County, MS to get quotes from gigantic hillbilly politicians or play hardball with Senator Trent Lott at press conferences. Unfortunately, that means that priceless pictures like these will no longer find their way to my inbox:
That's a pity, but I'm sure LL Cool Jew will be considerably happier in an actual city working a 9-to-5 as a PR flunky for nonprofit organizations filled with leftist revolutionaries, which is currently her most promising job opportunity. She's the daughter of a Black Panther kung fu master (seriously) from San Francisco, so that's like going home for her. It's a major step up from covering chemical spills and Jesus pageants in southern Miss.
In any event, a big fat SKOAL to my bitches in the Dirrty! Or as Lo-Key and Ayatollah once stated in their masterpiece of sound "FEMA Check," "keep your head up to all my peeps on the beach in the Ninth Ward!"
Well, I doubt they'll move into the Magnolia Projects next door to Terius "Juvenile" Grey's cousins who have not stacked sufficient paper to ball outrageous elsewhere, but they are relocating to New Orleans. At least when I go visit, we'll have a considerably doper selection of strip clubs to choose from than in the greater Gulfport, MS area, and we'll be able to eat crawfish and drink hurricanes and shit like that. Furthermore, the chances of running into Angelina Jolie and hitting her in the face for being a pompous fucktard are markedly increased there, as are the chances of being able to stalk (hot as hell) Saints running back Reggie (Get in My) Bush. Also, consider me absolutely fucking tickled that they're living in a city famous for bitches flashing their tits, so I should fit right in. BigBagel better get some of his kinte cloth blankets and the spare futon ready for my imminent trip down there.
Also, LL Cool Jew informed me last night that their fellow Columbia J-school alum, Killer, is in the middle of a bidding war between three different publishing houses who want to buy the rights to his graphic novel retelling of Darwin's Origin of the Species for the 150th anniversary of its original publication. I love it when one of my friends/Razzyphiles gets a book deal, especially one who has earned my respect by being a seasoned whiskey drinker like Killer. And BTW, Killer, if you need a consultant who combines expert knowledge of both evolutionary biology and 19th century British naval expeditions to the far side of the world a la the HMS Beagle, holler at your girl! I can't draw a cormorant to save my life, but I can tell you all sorts of anecdotal tales about Darwin's life as a seafaring naturalist. For starters, he was not accustomed to winding down after a hard day battling the Napoleonic fleet, amputating childrens' arms without anasthesia save a belt of laudanum, and a hearty meal of weevil-infested hardtack by playing Mozart string duets with the captain like in Master and Commander.
Now, given BigBagel and Killer's impressive personal achievements, you might expect them to look something like this:
Here's BigBagel, passed out on the altar of the synagogue at his own wedding rehearsal, from the lethal combination of tequila, Jaegermeister, and Jameson's that his "friends" forced down his throat at his bachelor party:
And here's Killer, anally fingering the Dirrty XXXtina blow-up doll (which really looks a LOT like Christina Aguilera) that I gave LL Cool Jew as a bachelorette party gift:
The real winner in all of this may be LL Cool Jew, however, as she no longer has to slog her Michael Kors cork wedges through shin-deep hog wallows in Jefferson Davis County, MS to get quotes from gigantic hillbilly politicians or play hardball with Senator Trent Lott at press conferences. Unfortunately, that means that priceless pictures like these will no longer find their way to my inbox:
"So tell me, Mr. Pitts, how have Jefferson Davis County's new zoning laws affected swine farmers from a 'good old-fashioned country boy logic' standpoint?"
"Senator Lott, would you kindly elaborate on your efforts to ensure that the JEWISH VOTES get counted?"
In any event, a big fat SKOAL to my bitches in the Dirrty! Or as Lo-Key and Ayatollah once stated in their masterpiece of sound "FEMA Check," "keep your head up to all my peeps on the beach in the Ninth Ward!"
Labels: BigBagel, Dirrty Dirrty, I LOVE IT, Juvenile, Killer, LL Cool Jew, Reggie (Get In My) Bush
Friday, November 03, 2006
Juve the Great Sir Mix-a-Lot Beat Biter
I realized to my horror and chagrin this morning that three days of November have passed without putting a new Hysterical Hip-Hop/R&B Lyric up on the RAZZY.org home page. Obviously that had to be rectified immediately, and I knew with what.
In case you are unfamiliar with the artistic repertoire of Terius "Juvenile" Grey, let me provide a brief summary. He is this portly fellow originating from the Magnolia Projects (AKA the 'Nolia) in New Orleans, Louisiana.
He has released such rap masterpieces as "Back that Azz Up" (his spelling, not mine), "Get it From Ya Mama", "Slow Motion", and "Booty Language." Despite the personal hardships he's faced (beef with Birdman and the Cash Money crew, having his house destroyed by Hurricane Katrina), Juve has bounced back like an ass in one of his videos with a new album that I very much enjoy, Reality Check. There is one song in particular which LL Cool Jew pointed out to me, entitled "Loose Booty." Juvenile is a fan of the booty, and it is a pervasive theme in his music. I intended the hilarious lyric of the month to be "Time out to freeze and ease that pussy" or "no nickel or dime, she got a dollar back", but found to my dismay that this song was unavailable on Juvenile's MySpace page. Since I always put my Hysterical Lyric of the Month on my own MySpace profile, I could not use "Loose Booty." FUCK! I'm not wild about that "Rodeo" song and I just wasn't feeling "Get Ya Hustle On". How can there not be at least ONE song available to add to my profile that's predominantly about fat women's asses??? Anyway, I opted instead to use "What's Happenin'".
This song is not really typical Juvenile, in tone or cadence, and to quote Kells, it reminded me of somethin', but I just can't think what it is. I realized this morning that it didn't remind me of my jeep, but in fact of a rap classic from my childhood, Antony "Sir Mix-a-Lot" Ray's "Posse on Broadway" from the seminal album Swass!
Before he gained international renown by popularizing women with small waists and huge butts unmissed by red beans and rice, Sir Mix-a-Lot sold this modest album all about G'in around the greater Seattle area. This set includes the title track ("don't you wish your boyfriend was swass like me? *SWASS*"), a song implying something sexual about canned refrigerated biscuit dough ("now grab that can and wrap it in your hand, bang that sucker till the dough expands"), the "Square Dance Rap", a cautionary tale about banging fat Navy whores on the docks in Bremerton entitled "Bremelo", and, of course, "Posse on Broadway."
"Posse on Broadway" is Sir Mix-a-Lot's narration of his exciting night out with the boys on Broadway, the street running through Capitol Hill (which, FYI, is GAY CENTRAL in Seattle). In Sir Mix-a-Lot's world, Broadway is where you get def and Dick's, a drive-in burger joint, is "where the swass like to play and the rich flaunt clout." Sir Mix-a-Lot narrates a thrilling tale in which he and his posse Kid Sensation ("the teenage lady killer"), Maharaji ("on the def side, dancin' like a freak"), Larry ("the white guy, people think he's funny"), and his homeboy PLB/Kevin are rolling around in their Benz with the Alpine system, pick up so many women outside Seattle Central Community College that they overflow the vehicle and have muffler problems, stop at Taco Bell "for some Mexican eatin'", realize that Taco Bell is closed and go to Dick's instead, get in an altercation with a crack addict and steal his hot abused girlfriend on the basis that "I got a def posse, you got a bunch-a dudes", subdue said crack addict with mace, and live happily ever after with all the freaks ("5 fellas and 22 freaks"). Obviously, Juvenile has never been to Seattle and experienced for himself how truly absurd this song actually is, because he blatantly ripped off its style in "What's Happenin'"!
See for yourself:
Sir Mix-a-Lot: But Taco Bell was closed, the girls was on my tip, they said, "Go back the other way, we'll stop and eat at Dick's"
Juvenile: Visited our spot, this girl was on my dick, she said "I love you, Juvenile, but you know you the shit"
Sir Mix-a-Lot: Dick's is the place where the cool hang out, the swass like to play, and the rich flaunt clout
Juvenile: I grabbed on my Glock, it's where the fools hang out, I'm only tryin' to hustle another change route
Sir Mix-a-Lot: The Alpine's bumpin' but I need the volume higher
Juvenile: The subwoofer's bumpin', I need it in my life
Seriously, the whole damn song sounds like "Posse on Broadway". I was bopping around to it and almost caught myself singing "every time we do this sucka MCs want to battle, I'm the man they love to hate, the J.R. Ewing of Seattle", "we put em on the trunk, we put em on the hood, some sat up with the driver, they made him feel good," and "we're rollin' Rainier and the jealous wanna get some" instead of Juvenile's lyrics about eating fish and shrimp po' boys, his soldier rag, how good his heater looks up in his B-M, and picking up biracial lesbians to "get it right with this big ol' totem pole."
At this point, I'm used to vintage Sir Mix-a-Lot beats being appropriated for modern popular music, and I definitely favor Juvenile's homage to the P-N-Dub's only homegrown rapper over "Don't cha", the monstrous abortion resulting from the Pussycat Dolls' theft of the "Swass" hook. However, I wish he would get a little credit for his pioneering style once in a while. The man is so unrecognized that he can't even get gigs as a pop culture pundit on Vh1 countdowns anymore. Show Mix-a-Lot some love, people. Posse up!
In case you are unfamiliar with the artistic repertoire of Terius "Juvenile" Grey, let me provide a brief summary. He is this portly fellow originating from the Magnolia Projects (AKA the 'Nolia) in New Orleans, Louisiana.
He has released such rap masterpieces as "Back that Azz Up" (his spelling, not mine), "Get it From Ya Mama", "Slow Motion", and "Booty Language." Despite the personal hardships he's faced (beef with Birdman and the Cash Money crew, having his house destroyed by Hurricane Katrina), Juve has bounced back like an ass in one of his videos with a new album that I very much enjoy, Reality Check. There is one song in particular which LL Cool Jew pointed out to me, entitled "Loose Booty." Juvenile is a fan of the booty, and it is a pervasive theme in his music. I intended the hilarious lyric of the month to be "Time out to freeze and ease that pussy" or "no nickel or dime, she got a dollar back", but found to my dismay that this song was unavailable on Juvenile's MySpace page. Since I always put my Hysterical Lyric of the Month on my own MySpace profile, I could not use "Loose Booty." FUCK! I'm not wild about that "Rodeo" song and I just wasn't feeling "Get Ya Hustle On". How can there not be at least ONE song available to add to my profile that's predominantly about fat women's asses??? Anyway, I opted instead to use "What's Happenin'".
This song is not really typical Juvenile, in tone or cadence, and to quote Kells, it reminded me of somethin', but I just can't think what it is. I realized this morning that it didn't remind me of my jeep, but in fact of a rap classic from my childhood, Antony "Sir Mix-a-Lot" Ray's "Posse on Broadway" from the seminal album Swass!
Before he gained international renown by popularizing women with small waists and huge butts unmissed by red beans and rice, Sir Mix-a-Lot sold this modest album all about G'in around the greater Seattle area. This set includes the title track ("don't you wish your boyfriend was swass like me? *SWASS*"), a song implying something sexual about canned refrigerated biscuit dough ("now grab that can and wrap it in your hand, bang that sucker till the dough expands"), the "Square Dance Rap", a cautionary tale about banging fat Navy whores on the docks in Bremerton entitled "Bremelo", and, of course, "Posse on Broadway."
"Posse on Broadway" is Sir Mix-a-Lot's narration of his exciting night out with the boys on Broadway, the street running through Capitol Hill (which, FYI, is GAY CENTRAL in Seattle). In Sir Mix-a-Lot's world, Broadway is where you get def and Dick's, a drive-in burger joint, is "where the swass like to play and the rich flaunt clout." Sir Mix-a-Lot narrates a thrilling tale in which he and his posse Kid Sensation ("the teenage lady killer"), Maharaji ("on the def side, dancin' like a freak"), Larry ("the white guy, people think he's funny"), and his homeboy PLB/Kevin are rolling around in their Benz with the Alpine system, pick up so many women outside Seattle Central Community College that they overflow the vehicle and have muffler problems, stop at Taco Bell "for some Mexican eatin'", realize that Taco Bell is closed and go to Dick's instead, get in an altercation with a crack addict and steal his hot abused girlfriend on the basis that "I got a def posse, you got a bunch-a dudes", subdue said crack addict with mace, and live happily ever after with all the freaks ("5 fellas and 22 freaks"). Obviously, Juvenile has never been to Seattle and experienced for himself how truly absurd this song actually is, because he blatantly ripped off its style in "What's Happenin'"!
See for yourself:
Sir Mix-a-Lot: But Taco Bell was closed, the girls was on my tip, they said, "Go back the other way, we'll stop and eat at Dick's"
Juvenile: Visited our spot, this girl was on my dick, she said "I love you, Juvenile, but you know you the shit"
Sir Mix-a-Lot: Dick's is the place where the cool hang out, the swass like to play, and the rich flaunt clout
Juvenile: I grabbed on my Glock, it's where the fools hang out, I'm only tryin' to hustle another change route
Sir Mix-a-Lot: The Alpine's bumpin' but I need the volume higher
Juvenile: The subwoofer's bumpin', I need it in my life
Seriously, the whole damn song sounds like "Posse on Broadway". I was bopping around to it and almost caught myself singing "every time we do this sucka MCs want to battle, I'm the man they love to hate, the J.R. Ewing of Seattle", "we put em on the trunk, we put em on the hood, some sat up with the driver, they made him feel good," and "we're rollin' Rainier and the jealous wanna get some" instead of Juvenile's lyrics about eating fish and shrimp po' boys, his soldier rag, how good his heater looks up in his B-M, and picking up biracial lesbians to "get it right with this big ol' totem pole."
At this point, I'm used to vintage Sir Mix-a-Lot beats being appropriated for modern popular music, and I definitely favor Juvenile's homage to the P-N-Dub's only homegrown rapper over "Don't cha", the monstrous abortion resulting from the Pussycat Dolls' theft of the "Swass" hook. However, I wish he would get a little credit for his pioneering style once in a while. The man is so unrecognized that he can't even get gigs as a pop culture pundit on Vh1 countdowns anymore. Show Mix-a-Lot some love, people. Posse up!
Labels: Dirrty Dirrty, Juvenile, P-N-Dub, rap, ridiculous absurdity, scathing indictments, Sir Mix-a-Lot
Monday, October 23, 2006
Mo Money, Mo Problems
Dwayne "Lil' Wayne" Carter, like most other Southern rappers, is a hideously ugly man (although he has defied the typical Southern rap custom of also being morbidly obese). Now his heinous countenance looks even worse, as he is bummed out and sad that he may be facing criminal charges over an incident at Morgan State University in Baltimore:
Lil' Wayne, who also answers to the names "Weezy" and "Tha Carter", looks so gloomy because after some retards in his entourage threw money into a crowd of poor college students, said crowd turned on each other and some bitches got injured. I can see why the most exciting moment of the Lil' Wayne concert was throwing money around, because in addition to the fact that acquiring money rules, his new single "Stuntin' Like My Daddy" pales in comparison to his former friend, current rival, and perennial player from the 'Nolia Juvenile's latest record Reality Check (and in particular, the song "Loose Booty"). Since Lil' Wayne's greatest achievement to date (fucking Trina) has nothing to do with his music, he obviously needs to pay off his audience to keep their attention. Well, that strategy has apparently backfired, as the ensuing melee over what were probably a few stray Andrew Jacksons and Alexander Hamiltons (I don't believe that Lil' Wayne was tossing C-notes around) has led authorities to consider pressing charges against him. Good move, Weezy.
*Many thanks to my "most intrepid freelancer" Morrissey'sHair for the tip and the link to the fabulous above portrait of Tha Carter.
*Many thanks to my "most intrepid freelancer" Morrissey'sHair for the tip and the link to the fabulous above portrait of Tha Carter.
Labels: assholes, Dirrty Dirrty, Juvenile, Lil' Wayne, Morrissey'sHair, rap
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