I'm A Cynical Asshole

As I write this, I know that there are things I should be doing. Deference to my duties though seems to be something I specialize in. I tend to internalize things, and thus by the time they come out, the initial idea I wanted to express has become so entangled in anger, self-doubt and disbelief that it's presented in a jumble of incoherent rage. Which in turn frustrates me further.

Album Review: Open Mike Eagle - Rappers Will Die Of Natural Causes

Open Mike Eagle

"Rappers Will Die Of Natural Causes"

Hip-Hop (alternately spelled hip-hop, Hip-hop, hip-Hop, and, phonetically, hiffop) has as many weirdos as any other genre. There's Lil Wayne, who thinks he's an alien, MF Doom, who has sent impostors to do shows in his stead, and of course, the batshit Blastmaster KRS-ONE, who believes Nas needs to talk to NASA about hiffop on Mars.

So, being weird alone will not allow you to stand out. For Open Mike Eagle, this isn't a problem. He's got the oddball part down, but he backs it up with silky smooth flows and wordplay that will make you question if you really heard what you thought you did (yes, you did.)

On "Rappers Will Die Of Natural Causes", Mike brings all of the above in abundance.

Weekly Wrap Up (Tracy's A Girl's Name Edition)

Yes, I intend to do these wrap ups every week, but I was sidetracked by doing things that are more fun than writing on the webbernets. Basically, I just discovered Angry Birds. How come no one told me how much fucking fun this game is?!

Let us continue.

Music Review: ApologetiX

The Lord works in mysterious ways. Be it by sending tornadoes to Massachusetts or sending Christian parody songs my way while I'm looking for things to write about. Just as The Weather Channel is now showing live coverage when there's even the slightest chance of a twister, so too am I on the look out for a good parody.

Sometimes we get what we're looking for. And sometimes we get much, much more.

Weekly Wrap Up (Death To Despots Edition)

As I alluded to with the first edition of I Watch It So You Don't Have To, I'm always trying to come up with new and interesting topics to write about. After much thought, I've settled for just something new. Each week I'll wrap up all the news that you need to know about. This way you can save time in your busy week and allow me to be the filter through which all your information is received.

Well, I don't think I could've picked a better week to start this wrap up feature. The last 7 days has seen countless lives torn apart, great uncertainty and left people wondering just what to do next. And that's just from Oprah retiring.

I Got A Letter From The Government (Guess Who Has A Stalker!)

No, it didn't say they were suckers. In fact, of all the government letters I've received in my life, nary a one has been an admittance of suckership. I'm starting to wonder where Chuck D gets his facts from.

So what was it about?

Story time:

A few years back, 9 to be exact, a 17 year old Sy Barnaby was involved in an incident. And while I'm not at liberty to discuss the details, this incident resulted in a number of people being sent to federal prison. And this may or may not be because of what I may or may not have said about what I may or may not have seen. (Stop Snitchin' didn't become en vogue for a few years, so you'll have to forgive my squareness.) So, I got a letter today from the Federal Bureau of Prisons, notifying me that one of those lovely fellas is not only set to be released soon, but is headed back to my city.

Zoinks!

Dig It (Rasslin' Memories)

Ed. note: I had intended this post to be about the impending rapture. But, as Winston Churchill once famously remarked, shit changes.

I woke up to the smell of pancakes and cigars. And maybe a little bit of weed (thanks, Uncle Chet). The fresh mountain air, though, was the dominant force invading my nostrils that morning. I couldn't tell you the date, but I know it was a Saturday. At this time, Saturdays were the only day you could watch wrestling. Well, maybe Sunday if you were lucky enough to have cable. But at 11am Saturday, it was wrestling time. Or rasslin, depending on your location relative to the Mason-Dixon.