Actually, as it turned out, officer Crowley really didn’t know who he was messin’ with!
Just joking with the title. Dialogue creates change. I love that we have a president who gets it. America is awesome again. Happy Friday.
Turman
Fine-art Friday: Bay Area slang top 100.
Bay Area slang is something that many folks take for granted. It’s been around for a while but it first hit the map hard back in the 70s with “hella.” Others ignore it, but know it’s there. Then there’s a whole ‘nother class of folks who are in straight denial. They probably know that Too $hort and E-40 have been putting Bay slang in their mouths for two decades plus, but they want to think that it’s theirs. That’s cool, but let’s be clear: on a per-capita basis, the Bay Area produces more slang than damn near any region on earth. And even you, ye of little slang, know: “game recognize game.”
The video above sets the record straight. A primer of sorts, it is starting to burn in The Yay. Local radio has picked it up because a local micro celeb laid it down. Rafael Casal is a veteran slam poet who’s done three tours of duty on Russell Simmons’ Def Poetry Jam. He’s also burned it up in the studio and written about social justice for a certain Bill Ayers. I don’t need to write any more, let’s just quote from his YouTube channel bio.
In 2008, Rafael released his full length debut LP As Good As Your Word, a collection of songs created during his apprenticeship to Bay Area producer One Drop Scott (3x crazy,Too short, Mac Dre, E-40). Most recently, he was a featured writer for Handbook of Social Justice in Education by Bill Ayers, co-wrote The One Drop Rule; a Hip Hop theatre piece directed by GOLDIE award winner Marc Bamuthi Joseph in collaboration with San Francisco Jazz Ensemble and Alvin Ailey tap instructor Jason Samuel Smith, and been featured on hundreds of websites, blogs and online journals across the world. In 2009, Rafael is helping build the first HipHop Theatre program as Creative Director at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, while gearing up to debut his second LP release, “MONSTER”, coming soon!
So, in other words, Rafael is pretty much getting it done. And while “lightweight clean” is about the best I can claim for my grasp of the moment with regard to Bay lingo, I can attest to the truth of which he speaks. I can pretty much trace the origins of “hella” to within a six-block radius of Bushrod Park in North Oakland, circa my tenth year. And from that wellspring comes the other 99. And peep the Five on It definition at the 2:13.
Ya smell me?
Turman
PS. Congrats to Oakland’s own Rickey Henderson for getting to Cooperstown and flipping the local lengua at the hall of record in a heartfelt induction ceremony. He was probably at Bushrod playing ball when somebody first said hella. Love you Rickey. You’re the greatest from here. Fa’ sho!
PPS. Sure, I could quibble about some of the spellings, but history will sort that out. Yaddadamean? And props to Baba Tunde for hipping me to this. Oh boy!
The Boys of Summer League
If only regular season was one long Summer League for The Warriors. If only we could bring a little Vegas to Oakland. If only Belinelli could have stayed Summer Belinelli throughout the season. We’d be wearing our “We Believe” shirts 365/24/7. But unfortunately, to quote a much better song (my apologies to Don Henley), “December Boys got it bad.” The question this year will be how soon will the summer fade for the Warriors into the long, cold nights of futility and organizational dysfunction? Well, let’s not worry about that now. It’s still summer, right?
Once again, The Golden State Warriors were the darlings of Summer League. This year, the spotlight was first on “lucky number seven” draft pick Stephen Curry, and although he had flashes of brilliance, he was quickly eclipsed by the tall shadow of a dunking Anthony Randolph. AR was the average high scorer for this year’s summer league, and a couple days ago procured the Summer League game high with 42. Two of those 42 included a Cirque du Soleil-esque levitation and jam from the baseline that had to be the highlight dunk of the entire competition. But that’s not all folks. Two days later, Anthony Morrow, aka Ammo, aka Chocolate Rain went all Raymond Babbitt from the three point line, stealing AR’s record with 47 points and taking The House with him - with a newly acquired Fro-hawk no less!
Yes, we officially got beasts on this squad, but my fear is that these Ponyboys will not stay gold. Call it the curse of Baron Davis, or the curse of Latrell Sprewell, or the curse of Chris “You Don’t Mess With The Cohan” Cohan. Call it what you want, but the Summer will eventually have to come to an end. Let’s just hope it ends late this year, like maybe May of next year.
M. Meschery
Shaq’s search for new spirit animal completed; Li Ning totally rules.
With Shaq and Boom Dizzle himself currently in China putting in some work for Li Ning, I’ve had quite a time of it reading their Twitter feeds. None of them, however, prepared me for this level of awesomeness. In a million years I could not achieve this level of supreme advertising genius. I’m not really going to say much more, other than that it is most definitely Turman approved. However, it has really, really made me wonder what Baron’s spirit animal will prove to be.
Perhaps I shall endeavor to find out. Stay tuned.
Turman
Hat tip to Ball Don’t Lie for mad-crazy dilligence.
Fine-Art Friday: Welcome to Oakland.
So, what happens when some self-proclaimed San Francisco hipsters create a “staycation” video for Tha’ Town? Hilarity right? Not so much. But, it’s getting late and I felt like sharing.
Um, perhaps I should have saved this for Hater Tuesday.
Gd.
Hater Tuesday special: Ron Artest’s salute to Michael Jackson.
When the Grammy Awards introduce their new, What in All Holy Fuck category next year, Ron Artest will finally get the music industry recognition that has to this point eluded him. While the self-styled “Tru Warrier” just this week announced his intention to “hoodify” the NBA-champion Lakers, he also found time to crack off a truly mystifying tribute song. For Michael Jackson.
I’m gonna hold off on presenting the jam for a minute to ruminate on what it contains and what led us to this point. First, what you will hear. Ron Artest. Crying on wax. For Michael Jackson. While endlessly referring to him as “my ni&&@.” Frankly it’s the best song Artest has ever done. But it is also by far the most confusing statement yet made publicly by a high-profile person in the wake of Jackson’s untimely passing.
Okay, invoking the N-word as a term of endearment and in-group inclusion is not really that big of a deal for me. But Ron Ron. It’s the chorus of the song. Over and over and over you say it. And in a strange way, this song represents what might be the zenith of a strange couple of weeks of reclamation of Michael Jackson by the black community at large. Out of respect, I won’t get into what I saw as black America’s selective distancing from MJ in the post-”BAD” era. Suffice to say, it was in all likelihood justifiable on a whole bunch of levels. And it was real. But instead, I have been even more captivated by the reclamation that began the moment Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson touched down at LAX. Henceforth, the polarity of Michael’s remembrance was established. Suddenly and profoundly, the brother who had been shunned would be posthumously brought back into the fold. Without reservation, and in abject suspension of past misgivings.
And who better than Ron Artest to make this explicit racialization as uncomfortable for almost anyone to listen to as humanly possible. I mean really. Who doesn’t have complicated feelings about MJ? I was a DJ for 20 years and loved his pre-”BAD” ouput as much as anyone. But I wasn’t unaware of the last 20 plus years of his life either. Who doesn’t want to remember the best of a brilliant musician and performer when he gave so much to so many? But if Al Sharpton has to tell your kids that your father “wasn’t strange” at your funeral, chances are pretty good that you and your life were, at the very least, “complicated.” And suddenly, the reclamation alienates all but the truest of believers. Couldn’t the last week have just let me have my best memories without making me feel uncomfortable because there’s an elephant in the room that’s only getting larger?
But then, from deepest left field, comes Ron Ron. His testimonial sets a new standard for overzealous repatriation. Yes, he was black. Of course he was brilliant. But he was also flawed. And by making such extravagant efforts to dismiss any haters and unconditionally proclaim him, in language reserved for only the most intimate of homies, a hero, you Mr. Artest, have once again set the standard for keeping it real at the expense of sanity.
Daniel Turman
PS. Rest in peace, Michael. And condolences to the Jackson family. I truly hope that none of these words offend even one reader. Moreover, I was truly saddened to hear of Jackson’s passing, as were so many others, and I hope that he can finally find the peace that seems to have at times eluded him in life.
Now, presenting Mr. Ron Artest. I think, after listening to this like 10 times, I stand by my original opinion.
Update: Apparently, someone suggested that Ron take all of these videos down. Shocker.
Gangsters love the 80’s.
Apparently, Snoop and Boom Dizzle didn’t see the dress code on the invite to this Sports Spectacular event that took place back in June. It clearly states, DRESS: Business Attire. I guess if your business involves wearing crisply-pressed Dickies and Chucks, as if you’re set-bangin’ like it’s 1989 then this would be in full compliance. There’s really not much explanation on BD’s Facebook page on why BD, Snoop and crew (including inexplicably Ocho Cinco) represented muy Cholo at what looks to be a fairly standard charity banquet. Maybe it was just an excuse for BD to wear some crazy wig. Although, it did get me to thinking that the 80’s curl needs to make a comeback.
And this is where I segue to my new favorite guilty pleasure, Zo and Tigallo Love the 80’s. This is an exceptional compilation of classic 80’s soft hits from one half of the North Carolina hip hop crew, Little Brother. That’s the nice thing about the 80’s making a retro comeback in these days of the iPod playlist - listening to Ice-T and The Icicle Works on the same mix doesn’t seem that odd. In fact, you can have all of the pleasure with only a smidgen of the guilt. Forget about wearing the wrong color, back in the day, you might just get capped for listening to A-Ha in the wrong hood. Nowadays, it might just be kinda gangster… well, kinda.
M. Meschery
Let’s ease back into this with some trick shots.
Long overdue apologies to the loyal readership. The FTB crew has been doing way too much, as the kids sometimes say. Actually, adults say that. But to the kids, we were simply “on one.” So it is. Life intervenes.
And, of course, it would be easy enough to cover off on something at least lightweight important, like (say) the Warriors’ recent draft of a certain son of onetime NBA sixth man of the year Dell Curry. But no. That’s been covered to death. And frankly, I’m not sure I can still quite see Nellie’s vision for a lineup with four three-point specialists on the floor together at the same time any longer. I’m sure I’ll start to sniff the brandy around August when the summer league stats roll in and light that familiar fire under my ass to go out in the waning light and shoot dozens of 37-foot three pointers in an empty gym, but until then I’m going to take a more gentle approach to re-entry blogging.
Some trick shots. Sure, it could look fake if you wanted it to. I don’t think it is. Edited? Sure. But he’s making these, at least. And supposedly the dude has accepted a Twitter challenge from the newly renamed Big Cavaleezy, Shaquille O’Neal. To a game of horse. For a thousand bucks.
Basically, it all comes down to whether or not dunking is allowed. But Bruce Manley. Remember that name. He’s going to be all up in some YouTubelage with Shaq in a few days.
Turman
PS. Patty Mills falls to number 55 in the draft? Supreme injustice. However, he did end up with the Blazers. I’m betting that he’s competing for serious minutes by midseason. He’ll be this year’s Monta. Anyone still reading this blog? Wanna chat about it?