what a crazy asshole

Beautiful

Do some light reading when you get the chance.

Look out Boston!

I will not be the first, nor the last to post this piece of brilliance on the web. Let it just be known that the Starbury section of the freedarko tome was excellent and at times even enlightening.







Wow!

P.S.-Steven A. Smith went to FIT for a year to play basketball, maybe to get a BA in knitting, who knows...

Huff

Fair Warning: This is going to be a ramble, the likes of which I've never quite attempted. To keep things buoyant and let you breathe, there will be random video breaks that will have a specific order to them if you pay close attention; or maybe not.

Ok, it's over; the great high of the Aughts came to its heady conclusion in Amsterdam. After spending the better part of the decade smoking pot; it all boiled over in to this vacation on a houseboat in Amsterdam. Maybe the point of the blog is for me to post my pictures of pretty places, tell you about my FEELINGS, random youtube clips, inconsistent sports related opinions, random music, the occasional obtuse reference to Truan Savage, Darren Sproles, or, wait what was I talking about. So now, where to go from here?




I remember hearing an interview with Dave Chappelle where he referred (reefered?) to the writing, shooting, editing and releasing of Half-Baked as a result of the "Great High of 1998" as he dubbed it (great name btw); so don't think I'm trying to puff my chest up like a Robin in springtime to show off some stoner ingenuity. I recognize we live in a weird age, I'm not unlike any other. It got me to thinking; how much weed I smoked would leave merely capitalist/mathematical computations as to my query of the 'greatness' of a high; so, no, it is not necessarily the amount that was smoked/vaporized/vapoorized that put the experience in perspective. Rather it was, how much was consumed in each single session, the length of the sessions, the activities that came with it and the general loathsome qualities of Americans on holiday.



Comedic epiphanies are only as good as the people you can discuss such matters with; maybe what made Chappelle's great high so great was the organization of the ideas discussed in that period of time. What I mean is this; I hate that 70's show, but the clips of them getting high in the basement in a circle was a very good tool for demonstrating what most people do, just without the movie camera.


Then I thought about the Madvillain song "America's Most Blunted", one of my very favorite pothead opuses; it was the first song that revealed to me the seemingly unlimited depth of both MF and Madlib's minds. This is a song that intriguingly emphasizes 2 very important aspects of how I view pot smoking;
-Connectivity: The title itself might immediately elicit visions of Tupac and Snoop back in 1996; by tying in other works, which is the very nature of sample based music, before a single note has been played.
-America: We smoke pot differently than other places; that is to say, that I am looked at like some kind of junkie for smoking pot without tobacco. The Dutch Master cigar, for instance, has so much tobacco in its rolling leaf that adding any would be a silly waste of time. They even put cigarette tobacco in bongs here in the old continent; MADNESS! (madder than deleting all your Bob Dylan off your computer)

Then I got to thinking about "RMXs" vs. "Covers"; it has been bothering me ever since I sat down at my parent's Compaq desktop and downloaded a free, incomplete copy of fruity loops 3. One day in Geometry class, freshman year, Joel Backus, known in Princeton for being that dude who could do the Rahzel "If Your Mother Only Knew" beatbox and for having some of the longest limbs I've ever seen on another human being (marijuana and shot blocking have been the crux of Sean Williams' basketball career, why can't others see this as the path of least resistance?), asked me if I wanted to listen to some beats he had been working on. I was a straight A student up to that point; what came out of the headphones on full blast was digital white noise with a digital kick thumping in the background; it was LOUD and didn't seem to end nor begin at any particular point. So, he got me; I had to know how I could shape sounds in such a way, I had my own ideas obviously, and he told me that cursed name Fruity Loops. The cover song is a staple of all performers; the tasteful cover is a different story all together. It is utilized as a change of pace, most often times to surprise the listener by demonstrating the performer as a listener as well (empathy!). When you're jamming, it's inevitable that you will want to learn other people's songs to jam on (if not, you are a crazy asshole) and that you will do your best to incorporate the elements of the song that speak the most to you; this often times can result in outright failure (READ: Tribute bands/band specific cover bands[you've lost the point of the cover song!]) success (Radiohead covering The Smith's "Headmaster Ritual" sounded pretty fucking good)



The RMX (I'm speaking of course of the Al Gore/Sean Combs invention, "The Remix") is an attempt by studio musicians to take whatever aspects they see fit of any sample and frame the audience's perception of it by titling it as the original with any number of long winded parenthetical statements to establish just who it is that mixed it up. From what I can tell it was originally a technique for re-releasing tired singles that charted well, but for a generation that can mix on their laptop, every song is a new remix waiting to happen. The above track by Boys Noize is a "RMX" of Feist's "My Moon My Man", a song with a really heavy beat to it that received praise across the spectrum of fans that I met while at a small, liberal arts school in Ohio (I had to write that sentence after I thought about it more). So I don't know shit it seems, but I do know that remixing a song by adding a few theatrical tricks is outright lazy. I almost got expelled for giving away my answers on the geometry final, which I got a c+ on, which I only decided to do because I was getting paid and because I had stopped paying attention and instead chilled with Joel and Neil Strauss in the back of the room where I listened to them ramble about hip-hop, football and stealing snapples from the cafeteria.



It's not all dreary sadness in this big, big world of ours, is it? I had a talk with Avis recently, about gas, and if Spain was getting any in lieu of the crazy shit that has been going down with Russia bullying the Ukraine, other Eastern European neighbors and EU nations as well; read here. These motherfuckers have a resource advantage, now, but if it is any indication, the decline of Citgo's oil for poor people scheme leads me to believe that Russia will have some serious social and political questions to answer from both it's own citizenry (I guess we can include South Ossetia and other lovely tourist destinations)[can I just say that any time a train hits a landmine, something fucking crazy is going on?]. I sat next to a Ukranian girl on the bus back from Madrid; she had a potbelly, but was kind of cute, made me think that I should start some Eastern European boy bands up and plant my seed in the motherland; call me the Slavic Lou Pearlman, the Iranian Humbert Humbert, call me anything, but don't call me Shirley (or Chevy Chase for that matter you illiterate fucks).

Oh Nine

So the new year is officially here, if you're running a week late like I am. There were no y2k bugs to fix this year (except Microsoft; oh sweet angel of progress, wing me down a zune).

Things to be scared of in 2009:

-Your own shadow
-The Red Light District of Amsterdam (Fake Titties and taped back dicks flying around like Wilsons at the nfl combine)
-Shadowboxing in public
-Military action in the middle east
-Hank Paulson
-Super AIDS (Not to be confused with super-duper AIDS, my christian rock band)
-Gruff Rhys (in a good way?)
-The rise of some new drug that we must fight before it gets out and floods our streets (jenkum (sic?)) [gives me a headache just pondering the notion)
-Martin Raboteau (Is there a more threatening non-threat out there?)
-Filipino legend Manny Pacqua (In the ring and in our hearts)
-My poor timing, 3rd grade writing level and 5th grade comprehension. (I don't understand when, how or why one might utilize the parenthetical)
-Incubus (I am trembling in fear)
-Gary Numan (Movies!)
-Bronze Sculptures (You know...)
-Losing your kidneys in some freak accident (Booze is tearing away at the lining of my intestine)
-Italian women (you will be the death of me in some form)


The next step in music made by animals for animals has arrived (2 years late); Candylion candyflouge.

Floating Island

You got to take a look at the other side...

Old man-young man dynamic, love it.

Trim Trab will bang on in the near future

Cooking with Josh and Keith

The day I eat an egg and tofu scramble is the day I get ready to leave Amsterdam probably; maybe that means tomorrow, but who knows, we're cheesing.

It might be harsh to say that I don't really care if the Eagles win their playoff contest against the Minnesota Vikings, but it's true.

Here's a question; if I take my brain and draw a map of the globe on it, does it mean anything?

Why hold on to the vestiges of youth that serve no purpose; why you can stop listening to Sublime so fucking much all y'all.

Dogs love Cheese:



Goat's Head Soup

The Rolling Stones have made a lot of music. You can't possibly be expected to keep track of all of it without risking some sort of mental breakdown. Cheese works as an antidote to the formulaic 1970's cluster fuck of a record. Is "Angie" a highlight in the mind of anyone besides my host brother from Argentina, who endeavored to start an evanesence cover band in his own room. Ayo!

Minor complaint:

Rza caused a minor fury among people I talk to, amid interviews I read of his in a couple of magazines where he went super in depth analyzing the Beatle's track, "While My Guitar Gently Weeps", in particular referring to the importance in it's simplicity, it's 5 chord structure (?). Raekwon was paraphrased in some media outlets as referring to RZA as 'out of control' or a 'hip-hop hippie', something so impossibly corny that it shakes the very foundation of fandom that hinges my somewhat meager existence. So, why no love for Jimmy Ponder's rendition of the Harrison penned gem off of the Self-Titled, monochromatic, "White" album.


Ultimate slacker event?

Eagles win; holy guacamole.

Music for Money!

Suck and Fuck

Mike and Eric detail their time with the Amsterdam prostitutes:

Q: How were the ladies?
M: Mine, smoking hot, both of them.
E: I mean, come on, they're prostitutes.
Q: So, what do you get
M: 55, standard suck and fuck,
Q: with the rubber on,
E: They're prostitutes...
M: They never touch your dick, never touch it.

Today's activities:

Dogs love cheese.

Mind Melding

The great high continues today with a volcano at homegrown to get the day going. Wish me luck mein people...

Brotato

Have you heard?

Don't Know Why Just Yet...

New Year

Yeaaaaah Yeaaah.

Love from Holland.

Things that make sense, or at least just might one of these days:

"Make Love. Not Explosions."
DIARRHEA WATER

Wavy Ondulations

Redundant year that 2008 had ended up being; we are celebrating in the Capital of The Netherlands, aka Flanders (some, who enjoy Dennis Hopper's early successes, might refer to it a good idea of the American Dream in some decidedly foreign manner). It seems like a good time to mention that some amazing things happen in Spain:

This Magazine gets published often (and on holidays comes with a free gift, sometimes, when supplies last!)

Kurt Russell, who I always use to confuse with Patrick Swayze, mainly because I never accepted Dirty Dancing as a legitimate film, is still ok; as far as I can tell, I don't read entertainment news enough to really be on the up and up with these things. I guess what I'm saying is, I really hope Kurt Russel, Patrick Swayze, the ensemble cast of Ghost, Roadhouse, Escape From New York, Escape From LA (if only for the oh so probable full floor length buzzer beater to escape getting shot)



I warned you about redundancy. Happy New Year!

Bienvenidos 2009 (Will Smith has damaged the legacy of Stevie Wonder's "I Wish", The Spanish Language, Gloria Estefan's once exciting legacy as some kind of dance diva crossover latina (Christina Aguilera was standing on the shoulders of giants when she recorded a Spanish language album and won some Latino Grammies) and I am as guilty as anyone of being complicit in this consequence)

Implicit Omnipotence-based Resolution(s) (You gotta make 'em to break 'em):
-World Peace
-Detroit making a comeback as a city (The Music is consistent as ever)
-Allen Iverson fading gracefully in The Elephant Graveyard of the San Antonio Spurs
-Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer getting his due by having yours truly try to translate his shit, under some pseudonym. (Pues, nada; mucha gente leen mejor que hablan; aficionados de Baudelaire, por lo general, les parezcen como puedan escribir y leer en idiomas extranjeras para entender el signífico más profundo.)
-Electric Guitar noise

Sevilla-Granada-Amsterdam?

More and more I've come to find the things inside my mind drive me wild with little extrinsic motivation. As the NYT website mourns the death of Polaroid, hipsters are not necromancers (more likely necrophiliacs), I, like so many others, am coping with some heavy losses in the spheres of influence by which we have gravitated in to. I was content to pile up some obituary links til I realized that might be the most depressing way possible to do things. At the expense of omitting some heavy hitting names, I thought it wise to embark on a quick jump on down to Hades to see what's boiling amongst the undead:

American Economic Dominance; like Bob Sagat on network TV, a thing of the past. With such grotesque, disturbing, and often times depressingly hilarious new lows hitting every other day, it seems like a somewhat foregone conclusion that we are in a crisis...

Oberlin College's Student Band Culture; not actually dead (yet), but I needed to write about the disturbing phenomenon of tribute cover bands forming at the school. It's not cool, unless it's Mini-Kiss, which is a perfect band to play at Oberlin, but only if Lez Zeppelin opens for them. Come on you fucks!

Professional Wrestling: The Wrestler gets its release in the US of A soon, and has been reviewed by two of the biggest douches in sportswriting today (not so coincidentally two of the best writers as well)
Will Leitch
Bill Simmons

Vaginal Scent:Goodbye forever natural vagina scent, I'll miss you so.

That about wraps up the calendar year 2008. Don't sleep on your moon.

Takabeats...

Hello nice lady!


If you read, and have ears, then you must already be a regular over at this fine website. If not, then head on over, check the place out, and leave some love.

Taka and I have begun working on some new tracks; Trimm Trab is our pseudonym, for obvious reasons.

Basically we hope to get you all listening. Hello Albuquerque!

Throwing doves like my name was Speak, the Hungarian rapper...

Your Ghost Lingers...

When Steven "Stevie Franchise" Francis burst upon the scene in College Park, Maryland he was regailed for his haymaker punch athleticism (dunks, dunks, dunks, and then some) and the Court IQ of a playmaking point. He was a star for the Terrapins, while bringing some great Gary Williams moments for all those who are, admittedly creepily, in to that sort of thing. Another Maryland star who was rising high above the competition, and bringing great NBA visibility to the program; whose latter day saints of the early aughts include Lonny Baxter (seemed indestructible during the improbably title run in 2002, especially with running mate Steve Blake showing off his below average athleticism), Juan Dixon, Steve Blake, Drew Nichols, and Nick Kaner-Medley (name seems blander than a bag of frozen vegetables, and thus my ideal of the pursuit of "quiet consistency"; NKM would make for a great 9nth man in D'Antoni's rotation). So NBA here he comes, but what's this, some fledgling expansion franchise selects him with the 3rd overall pick, and quickly the million dollar smile turns to pout; him and his agent hold out and use their leverage to secure SF safe passage through the underground railroad of the NBA out of the Canadian boonies that aren't funny, even in Puerto Rico. He began a stint with the Houston Rockets that will soon not be forgotten; ushering in the early Yao years, pairing with Cuttino Mobley for one of the first great high-scoring high-yielding unorthodox wing-point combos. Then, like Autumn leaves, the death knell told for his time served in uniform moved him to a new life with his running mate in Orlando; more high scoring, high-yielding results continued as the Franchise was like Stefan Marbury with a good attitude. This explains his strange exit and entrance on to the New York Knicks, under Isiah Thomas' stewardship; where he was given a fat contract to rarely play with his supposed tortured soul mate Starbury, alas he never provided what he was signed for an dissapointment led to possible medical retirement. Then, "New Life" with his old squad the Rockets, 13th man status, with his still somewhat useable expiring contract, has finally done the almost unthinkable. Now this, is too good to be true, for all you Vancouver fans who told yourselves, "We will have our revenge, in this life, or the next..."

Lock Your Windows, Close You Doors

Now that the NBA season is officially one-third of the way kaput, some things are much clearer than back on that late October night when games got underway; We all know who got the best of the Jkidd-Devin Harris (+2 first rounders) trade, Dwayne Wade IS in fact one of the 3 best in the league, Chauncey Billups is still relevant, Matt Geiger is still retired and somehow this all revolves around the "Nash-like" emergence of Chris Duhon in D'antoni's system.

First Trimester Abortions:

This early in the season it was extremely difficult to judge the overall effect that these 6 head coaches were having on their seemingly lottery-bound franchises, but it seems that win-loss record was an important indicator. There was also an interesting piece I read recently where someone tried to highlight a specific game that served as the death knell for the following:
-Maurice "Mo" Cheeks, Philadelphia 76ers
-Mark "Interim Tag Removed Thanks to Incompetent GM" Wittman
-Sam "anthropomorphic dinosaur hybrid" Mitchell
-Reggie "Hang Time" Theus
-P.J. "Open Secret; I can't coach young players" Carlesimo
-Eddie "Thanks a lot Gil/Haywood, at least I look like Terrence Howard ate Marlon Brando circa on the waterfront" Jordan
I find it amusing to see these 6 coaches playing musical chairs for open spots on the teams they have all recently vacated. Perhaps one of the big cable conglomerates will swallow some of these guys up for the purposes of having an insider voice who can really break down the 1st order questions that truly order the nba's infrastructure (note: a first order question, as opposed to a second order question, might be asking why effort is so eye-poppingly low on these losing teams; is it a dearth of talent, is it the wrong system, is it finding a guy who can connect with a bunch of over-inflated egos (seriously name one person who ACTUALLY wants to coach Rashard Mccants, besides maybe British Comedian Benny Hill (R.I.P.))

Because that's the only way to describe the farcical wheeling and dealing freestyling that can be proffered for the masses on youtube; Do you think he's copyrighted "Young, Black and Gifted" I always thought Sir Smoke A Lot's tribute to Sampson Simpson had that shit on lock!


First Trimester Success Stories (Why to like the Warriors when you're from New Jersey):
-Anthony Morrow; one 37 point outburst, on a team full of guys who randomly have one big night, has this young gunner from Georgia Tech in the apple of the mainstream media's eyes.
-Anthony Randolph, one (or two) dunks on Yao have catapulted this LSU favorite son in to the bloggo stratusphere, at least as far as the ones I read do. (Caveat: There are a million other reasons to like Anthony Randolph if you see his presence in the league leading to some intriguing developments in regards to the "positional revolution" or perhaps finding an appropriate answer to the question of "where and how do you play a 6' 10" beanpole rebounding machine [oxymoron?] who happens to stroke mid-rangers and dunk on everyone in a 5 mile radius?")
-Devin Harris has an offense tailored specifically to his skill set. Lawrence Frank is the most non-threatening, pocket sized coach in the league. May they mire in mediocrity til death do they part, now kiss the bride!

-Andres Biedrins, fantasy basketball mainstay, is putting up consistent numbers while improving his free throw %'s and putting Latvia/hair gel back on the map. Seriously though, hair gel was a phase in my life and I can't remember for the life of me why...
-Nenad Krstic, wants back, and the Nets could still technically sign him up (hint, he's still a huge improvement over Lopez or Anderson, but where is Boone, and where the fuck is our very own up-in-smoke at?!?!?!?)

First Trimester Awards (chicago bulls only):
-Funniest Freak Accident: Derrick Rose
-Ugliest Beard: Joakim Noah
-Person I'd most like to smoke a blunt with: Aaron Gray
-Mostly out the door: Kirk Heinrich
-Most Opulent: Tyrus Thomas
-Most Scrumtrillescent: Thabo Sefalosha



First Trimester Epiphany:
STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP

Home shopping network is on youtube!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? This is utterly illogical, so why do I find the notion so very satisfying?

Canaduh

Wow, this story is kind of ridiculous. I guess we're only used to the cartoon equivalent of mice and cats killing each other with explosives; I suppose it hits much harder when they don't just get burnt and frustrated, but actually die.

Merry Christmas JAPAN!