paul wellstone, r.i.p.: anyone who knows me can tell you that i'm far from a liberal. however, i respect anyone with strong convictions who adheres to them despite the costs, especially in the ethics black hole that is washington.
as if that wasn't enough, a passing closer to my heart: richard harris, r.i.p. i was effected by this more than i could've imagined. the rims of my eyes were laced with tears. the only man, in my opinion, to conquer...no, to subjugate screen, stage & stereo has died. his two albums with jim webb remain amongst my favorites: by turns ridiculous and strangely affecting. my sadness is deepened because i think i've seen the last of a kind pass on: hard-drinking, hard-living, hard-loving; the type that waged full-out war on life, with unquenchable passion for all that they did; the breed that remained a men's men despite a sensitivity and compassion that ran deep. a thought that tends to lessen that sadness: one can never say that richard harris didn't live.
new best commercial on television: cedric the entertainer asks grimace something i've always wondered about: "what are you?" the hamburglar says something unintelligible in response and ced asks if the hb was talkin' about his (i.e. c the e.'s) mama. after the cut, a dancing cedric coaxes grimace into doing the bump along with him.
WOWIE ZOWIE! i want to tell you about the new blackstreet single, "wizzy wow" featuring mystikal. here's the problem, though: i don't know what i think of it yet, but i do know that you should hear it. the track sounds alive, like it's a living, breathing, dancing entity. it whispers, it growls; it belches, it stomps; it roils so that you swear that you never hear the same sequence of sounds twice. fitting, then, because teddy riley hasn't sounded this vital since, ohhh, "girlfriend/boyfriend"? could a recent declaration of bankruptcy be behind this renewed vitality? it's very obvious that he is trying and that's the problem, the line between desperation and inspiration being so thin. "i'm a, i'm a fucking legend," he screams, the man who laid the groundwork for r&b futurism fifteen years ago wondering if anyone can still hear him.
you know what, though? this is great, and the mystikal rap cinches it. it is so GLORIOUSLY misogynistic (and, sadly, so indicative of why he found himself under arrest for alleged aggravated rape): "wizzy wizzy, that's my kind of bitch, she can't cook but she can ride that dick, know she ain't smart, but she's got nice tits, she mess around but that's still my chick."
vain, selfish
& lazy is true to its name and its creator, fred solinger, aged 24. thin but wiry, he is an off-and-on ultimate fighter. he maintains his residence in new jersey. contact me.