Hip Hop and Ya Don’t Stop …

… Rockin’ to the Bang Bang Boogie said Up Jump the Boogie to the Rhythm of the Boog-a-da-beat.

Hell yes kittens. As promised last entry, the Playa is punching it up hip hop style, and what better time to do this than after the explosion of flavor I just witnessed Friday night at The Littlefield in the Gowanus, Brooklyn.

A fellow hip hop aficionado/friend of mine and I converged on this modestly-sized performance art space on Degraw Street to take in a concert sponsored by the National Black Writers’ Association. The acts?

First there was Talib Kweli, a fairly large name in the underground hip hop scene, who has sort of walked the mainstream tight rope with some popular, catchy crossover singles (“Just to Get By,”; “I Try”). His lyrics are more in the politically conscious vein, and his MC skills are quite superb. He is also known for having frequently over the years partnered up with another fellow Brooklyn-bred MC, Mos Def. The duo put out a well-received collabo album under the name ‘Black Star’ in the 2001-02 time period, spawning minor underground hits such as ‘Respiration’ and ‘Definition,’ the latter of which pays homage to Boogie Down Productions’ old-school classic cut ‘Stop the Violence’ by borrowing its chorus and re-wording it for a new-school update.

The headliner? The one and only Gil Scott Heron, a name not that well known in modern music circles, but please don’t get it twisted. Mr. Heron made his bones as a revolutionary African American musician and occasional spoken-word poet during the burgeoning, turbulent New York of the early 1970s, symbolizing the voice of the black poor and lower working-class in Harlem and other fringe NYC neighborhoods at the time. Works of his such as ‘The Bottle’ and ‘The Revolution will Not be Televised’ have stood the test of time as powerful works of artistic brilliance, and were hugely influential in what would go on to become the hip hop music we know and love today. His loops and vocals have been sampled by countless well-respected hip hop artists in the New York scene, and everywhere else. Well before The Sugar Hill Gang laid down the single that ‘started rap music,’ Gil Scott was already a legend in his own time.

I was honestly a little unsure of what to expect heading into this show. I’m not super familiar with the overall catalogue of work by either of these artists, but knew enough about them and had heard enough of their music to have an idea of what to expect.

Let me just say, there’s nothing like being pleasantly surprised. This was honestly one of the best live music shows I’ve seen in a long time. Even DJ Preservation on the wheels of steel was amazing with the pre-show warmup music, seamlessly weaving through a truckload of 45s on the turntables displaying his skills through a glorious soundwave of old-school funk, tribal African beats, 70s soul and countless other musical styles that provided a perfect backdrop for Friday night’s performers.

Best of all, the performers did their own thing wonderfully without stepping on each others’ grooves. Live hip hop shows are often nowhere near as satisfying as the recorded product. There’s often ancillary posse members on stage just for the hell of it, and too many cats up there with microphones shouting over each other and ruining the flow. Half the time, they’re not even on point with the rhythm of the music, and the whole thing just comes off sloppy.

Well my friends, no such thing on this night. Talib took the stage by himself, rocking the mic with only the DJ providing the music – the way it should be. And he put it down. He prowled the stage, sweating through a blistering set in the cramped space and moving the crowd like a real MC should. The melody in his songs came through perfectly, and the beats were tight. Not a weak song in the set.

After a break following his set, backed up yet again by some more heat rocks from DJ Preservation, out came the legend himself, Mr. Gil-Scott Heron. He spoke to the crowd the way he might an old friend, casually talking about his life experiences (including a few stints in prison over the past 10 years). The life experience in his voice was fascinating. His gravelly delivery and laid back, take-it-in-stride demeanor is probably the only way he’s still around today, after all he’s evidently been through in his life. His vocals were flawless. Have you ever been fortunate enough to see a live performer or singer who can’t possibly miss a note or sing something out of key because everything that comes out of his/her mouth is pure gold? That’s Gil Scott. Some cats are just born to sing. He’s one of them. He played his songs on an organ and just sang – simple yet effective. He was also laced with some harmonica by a fellow performer, and I would be completely remiss if I didn’t mention the saxophone stylings of another jazz bluesician legend who joined Mr. Gil Scott on stage, the legendary Gary Bartz.

All in all, a fabulous night of music, starting with a newer artist that represents true hip hop in the modern era (Talib Kweli), and ending it off by going back to the roots of what started it all, musical treasures Gil Scott Heron and Gary Bartz. These are the type of guys that laid the foundation for what artists like Public Enemy, Nas, Eric B. & Rakim, Jay-Z, EPMD, Slick Rick and countless others would turn into a musical movement that so many of us still know and love today.

Another one of those modern artists, one who was cut down way before his time, was the Notorious BIG. The 13th anniversary of his passing happened just a few weeks ago (March 9th), but you would never know it, aside from the occasional one or two-hour Biggie mash-up on your local urban radio station in memory of his greatness. This sadly proves that true hip hop, the real Golden Era stuff, is and has been dormant for a long time now. All that most of us have as a memory stick now is the glorious music and live performances of that era because as most of us know now, it’s not apparently present in any way, shape or form in the current urban music scene.

Many have theorized that when Biggie and Tupac died within a year of each other in 1996 and ’97, those two watershed events signaled the slow, metaphorical death of the art form (not just music scene, mind you) itself. It would be hard to argue that (but more on that for another time).

Those of us that love and revere true hip hop don’t just miss Biggie and Tupac. We miss the entire culture.

Fortunately, we have performances like Friday night’s at the Littlefield to remind us that true greatness isn’t completely dead. You just have to know where to look.

March Sadness

I am SO glad I didn’t fill out a bracket this year.

Anyone who knows anything about the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament is well aware that there are a fair share of surprises every year, some more than others.

But this season – hot diggity dog. I would have my swear jar filled to the brim with quarters at this point had I decided to enter a pool.

It’s not even about the fairly insignificant amount of money most people plunk down. Nobody really cares so much about 5, 10 or even 20 dollars that they should react as though they just found out they were one wrong digit away from a winning mega-Millions lottery ticket.

It’s about the frustration with finding out how wildly inaccurate your thought processes were when making your picks. This is especially true for self-professed sports nuts (right here!). Hell, I covered sports for a career at one time. I should know more than the average bear!

Dead wrong. Big mis-perception right there. Sure I might have certain insights into particular sports that are lacking in others who could care less about it. But when it comes to predicting winners of games, tournaments or other competitive endeavors? Please, spare me with the whole ‘research’ angle. It’s probably 85-90 percent dumb luck, and anyone who believes otherwise is fooling themselves.

This year’s NCAA Tournament is a perfect example. Kansas losing in the second round to Northern Iowa? Georgetown biting the dust in the first round against the University of Ohio? Cornell taking out Temple in Round One? Old Dominion and Saint Mary’s College advancing into the second round by knocking out programs such as Notre Dame and Villanova, respectively? Say WHAT? Eleventh-seeded Washington, from the one major-conference-that’s-getting-no-respect-this-year PAC 10 into the Sweet 16 with wins over Marquette (No. 6) and New Mexico (No. 3)?

See, we all know upsets are going to happen, but who the hell can pretend they have any well-researched, surefire theories as to which games will actually produce these upsets? It’s all anybody’s guess. And it’s not rocket science to predict things like “Oh this higher-seeded, major conference team has 2 starters out, so they might lose,” or “Gonzaga might be a number eight seed from a non-major conference, but we all know they’re capable of beating anyone at any time.” And those scenes don’t even always seem to play out as consistently as they used to. Traditional logic just doesn’t work anymore.

I enjoy the NCAA Tournament MUCH more when I don’t have a dog in the fight, and when I’m not checking my bracket sheet more than actually watching the games as I’m attempting to calculate whether or not I’m mathematically eliminated from winning some sort of prize, or trying to validate my sports acumen by holding up a mostly successful bracket sheet by the time the dust all settles.

College hoops is just insane. Too many alpha dogs are fleeing straight to the NBA after just one solid year of collegiate experience, as per the NBA’s one-year-of-college-minimum rule enacted a few years ago. And before that rule, it wasn’t at all uncommon for the best young players to go straight from high school to the big time, bypassing college hoops completely. I mean – can you blame these kids? Like Steve Miller said so many years ago, go on take the money and run. Right?

This leads to a scenario where accurately predicting March Madness success is much more difficult and tedious than ever before. The playing field is more level consistently now. We still have the landmark programs winning national titles for the most part (teams like Kansas, North Carolina, Florida, etc.). But the rest of the country has caught up in recent years. Murray State, George Mason and the U. of Ohio never seemed to make it as far as they do now when I was a young buck.

It’s fun as a spectator, but the opposite of fun if you’re trying to be a bracket expert.

Oh and by the way, I technically lied. My last entry indicated that my next would be about hip hop (you know, playa president and all). I promise that’s coming next. The 13th anniversary of Biggie’s death recently came and went without so much as a shout out, and that’s sad.

The art form of creative, boundary-pushing hip hop is as under-the-radar as it’s ever been. And that’s my word.

And 1nce Again It’s On

Alright, okay – let’s just put it out of the way at the get-go.

I’ve been in Indo-China hunting rare birds of prey. I almost shot my partner a la Dick Cheney-style, but it all worked out. Let’s just say, if you ever decide to leave the safety off your hunting rifle because you get sick of having to constantly switch it back and forth, just do the smart thing and keep switching it. Laziness just might kill ya dead otherwise!

Fine, okay, for reals, for those few devoted followers out there, I haven’t updated this space in ages. And it feels like I’ve turned several ages since then. Alas, here we are. I haven’t put it down since the day of the Super Bowl ya’ll. Inexcusable! And the frigging Saints won! I knew I shouldn’t have taken the ‘boring but predictable’ pick (Peyton Manning and the Indianapolis Colts). Whatevs. They’re probably still partying in N’Awlins. We’ll see if the hangover lasts well into the 2010 season, but that’s several months from now.

I’m going to hop around the dial this time. Hang onto your party favors, chaps.


* The Oscars have come and gone without any major surprises, except perhaps arguably in the Best Picture category. Well, that and the crazy Jewish godmother chick that bum-rushed the stage and stole the thunder from Roger Ross Williams during the award acceptance speech in the Best Short Documentary category. Talk about pulling a ‘Kanye West’ – Jesus Christmas. At first I thought she was going to just complain about how she asked for a Salt bagel and they gave her an Egg Everything by mistake, for the sake of Hashem already. But then she started babbling about the film. Go figure.

The other most notable result, at least in my mind, was The Hurt Locker pulling the upset over Avatar for Best Picture. This is in no way an expression of opinion that Avatar should have won Best Pic, mind you. But I feared that it would, simply for more political reasons if nothing else … you know, like the fact that it made a buzzillion dollars and was seen by everyone who is anyone. It was a cultural phenomenon, not just a movie, and Hollywood often likes to reward such achievements. But I’m glad to see that, especially in recent years, the Academy has shown the tendency to give the nod to the less visible but still powerful, and deserving, films (i.e. Crash, Slumdog Millionaire, The Hurt Locker).

* Breaking Bad returns to AMC next Sunday, March 21st, chilluns. It’s. Going. To be. Bad-ass. Great show, heading into Season 3, and if you don’t know, now ya know. Go catch up pronto. It’s the best show of this past decade not named ‘The Wire.’ Bryan Cranston’s defining career role. Everyone else is fantastic too, in their own way. Just trust me. Subject matter, you ask? Well, it’s not the sunniest show, but if you can take it, it’s worth it. Cranston plays a burned out, mid-life crisis-having high school chemistry teacher in Albuquerque with a wife, a physically disabled teenage son, and another baby on the way. He’s a brilliant scientist who has fallen short with more prestigious career paths, and when the show opens we see him working a shitty second job in a car wash to help make ends meet. Then suddenly, he’s diagnosed with lung cancer. So what does he do? Why what anybody else would do in his position … he teams up with a burnout former student of his who deals small-time drugs locally and uses his vast knowledge of chemicals to construct the most addictive, dangerous, organically pure form of crystal meth known to man so he can make sick money for his family before he checks out permanently. It’s gripping stuff, and you can imagine the kind of characters that Walt and Jesse (said burnout former student) encounter along the way. Their pairing is seemingly unlikely and often chaotic, but also strangely compelling and even somewhat touching, at the risk of sounding like a sentimental pussy. But seriously – excellent show. Highly recommended.

* I caught Brooklyn’s Finest this weekend. It’s received mediocre reviews and only lukewarm attention. Although I enjoyed it overall, I must agree with the overall sentiment that it doesn’t quite stand up to Training Day, the definitive work of director Antoine Fuqua and a film which garnered a Best Lead Actor Oscar for Denzel Washington 10 years ago. BK’s Finest is a gritty crime drama set in modern day New York, and the realism aspect seems fairly believable. But the three central storylines that interweave throughout the two-plus hours often leave holes and question marks individually, creating for a lack of depth and a feeling of emptiness by the time it’s all over. You just kind of find yourself wondering what you’re supposed to take away from it. Sure I enjoyed the overall experience of viewing it, but it doesn’t stand up as a strong work on its own that leaves you wanting more or yearning for repeat viewings, as does Training Day, which I never turn off when I stumble across it while channel-surfing. If you’ve got nothing better to do and you’re drawn to the hardcore crime drama genre, you could definitely do worse. But don’t expect a classic. Solid all-around performances from Ethan Hawke, Wesley Snipes and Don Cheadle, although I couldn’t help wondering why Cheadle’s character was so eternally pissed off the entire film. He had shit on lock down – he was a cop who was clearly taking dirty money (obvious by the car he drives and the pad in which he lives), but he also had respect from his back-in-the-day boys who are still living large dealing drugs in the housing projects of the seedier parts of Brooklyn. The world is his oyster. Someone forgot to tell him he already has everything you could possibly want.



* Just caught an interesting ‘30 for 30’ Series documentary that premiered tonight on ESPN titled “Winning Time: Reggie Miller vs. the New York Knicks.” It’s a fascinatingly candid hour-plus look at many of the memorable, heated playoff battles between the Miller-led Indiana Pacers and the New York Knicks in the early-to-mid 1990s when those teams were battling Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls for Eastern Conference supremacy. Directed by Dan Klores, this doc pulls no punches (and shows that there were more than a few being thrown between the Knicks and Pacers at the time). Reggie talks openly about the constant verbal battles and stare-downs between himself and infamous Knicks fan Spike Lee, whose taunts and trash-talking often inspired Miller to escalate his already impressive skills to an even higher level of play. If you dig good old NBA footage and stories, and especially if you were in your prime and watching a lot of those old Knicks/Pacers clashes in the 90s, don’t miss this.

Okay folks, I’m gonna try not to fall off anymore and have to re-introduce myself to the world like Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer or something, but we’ll see. Stay tuned. We’re going to dip into some deep hip hop discussion next time. After all, I called this joint ‘Playa President’ for a reason. Peace.

Had enough Super Bowl Hype yet?

Come on, it’s only been two weeks. You need more and you know it. There might be some stuff you still don’t know about these teams and every player on them at this point.

Who would really be upset if we just did away with that extra week in between the Conference championship games and the Super Bowl? It’s a bit ridiculous. I really wish they would just play the NFC and AFC Title games on a Saturday, which would give the Super Bowl-bound teams an extra day for travel arrangements and all the other preparations they need to make. Two weeks is too long. It becomes practically anti-climactic. Not to mention that the Super Bowl has become such an ‘event’ over the past 10-15 years now that the game is practically overshadowed by everything else going on around it (media hype, a never-ending slew of ‘who cares’ type feature stories, celebrities, multi-million dollar TV commercials, halftime show, off-the-field news stories that get WAY too much play, etc.). By the time the game is over, half the people don’t even care who won. Only well after it’s all over does it really sink in as to what has been accomplished by the winning team. If we had one less week to concentrate on all the other hoopla, it would feel more like an extension of the football season that we’ve all just witnessed, rather than its own individual hype-fueled event.

And along those same lines, am I the only one who feels like some sort of weird time vortex happens in between the conference title games and the Super Bowl? Seriously, it seems like it’s been about 3 months since Jets-Colts and Vikings-Saints. I feel like a ‘Lost’ cast member during all that silly time-travel business.

Maybe it’s just all the never-ending media overkill. Oh well.

With that aside, two excellent teams are playing tonight, and only one of them can be crowned Super Bowl champ. You’ve all heard the countless angles and predictions by now. Will Peyton Manning cap off one of the greatest individual seasons any QB has ever had with yet another masterful performance in Super Bowl XLIV, cementing his status as one of the all-time playoff greats and giving him a second championship? Will the underdog but never-say-die Saints, representing the rebirth of their once-battered but still-standing-proud city of New Orleans, overcome the odds and beat the favored Indianapolis Colts? Will Dwight Freeney’s injury have anywhere near as adverse an effect on Indy’s chances of winning as many people believe? Will the team that has the ball last really be the team that ends up winning? And perhaps most importantly of all, will anyone recognize those sideline shots of Colts head coach Jim Caldwell?

Wait a minute, the Colts have a head coach? You mean it’s not Peyton Manning?! I was shocked to find this out myself.

This guy, apparently his name is Jim Caldwell, has been head coaching this team all season long! I know … crazy, right? Wow. I need time to adjust to this reality.

(wait for it)

Okay. Done.

Anyway – here’s all you need to know. Basically.

The Colts are favored, and with good reason. They’re the overall better team. They won this same game, on this SAME field, three years ago with largely the same personnel in place. Even the pouring rain didn’t stop Peyton Manning from effectively carving up the Chicago Bears’ defense in Super Bowl XLI. Why? Well there are a lot of reasons. One of my favorite is this: Before the game started, Manning practiced for almost one hour with soaking wet balls that he dipped in buckets of water, so that the predicted downpour wouldn’t be so much of a hindrance to the Colts’ offense.

Now THAT is insane.

Nobody prepares like Manning. I know the Saints are confident in their chances, and they very well should be. But let’s face it – the Vikings had that NFC Title game more or less in the bag, and then they pissed it away, like an overmatched college freshman at his first-ever frat party. Vikings fans are still rolling around on the ground from that groin kick that people call a football game.

Goddamn. That was painful. When you’re not even a fan and you can feel how much it hurt, THAT’S painful.

Anyway, whatever. The Saints are here. Whether you believe it’s because they are a team of destiny this year, or if you believe they’ve earned it with a solid body of work this season, or whether you think it’s some sort of combination of those elements, the end result is the same. They have a chance to do something great. I wouldn’t say a victory by N.O. would be the same as the N.Y. Giants’ stunning upset of 18-0 New England two years ago, but it would be close.

If both of these teams play like they did two weeks ago in their respective conference title games, the Colts are coming away with their second Super Bowl in four years. But if the Saints can somehow harass and frustrate Manning into making un-Manning like mistakes, then only at that point would N.O. have a shot. And I think that’s the reality.

The only other exception goes something like this … Manning still plays like Manning, but the Saints turn it into a Wild West-style shootout, with Drew Brees matching Peyton drive-for-drive. And then somehow, N.O. gets the ball last, trailing by less than a touchdown, and scores a TD late enough in the fourth quarter so that the Colts don’t have enough time left to answer.

Should be fun. Good luck actually paying attention to the game itself though. Seems to get harder to do so every year.

Lady Gaga – mental midget, or musical genius?

Oh music. Who is going to save you now?

We all know that the overall state of music performance, production and consumption has changed drastically over time, perhaps most dramatically over the last decade (the ‘zeros’ or the ‘aughts’). This is an entirely separate topic of conversation that could likely occupy several entries or discussions. It is, however, a contributing factor to the modern state of music, and how we perceive today’s musicians.

There was a time when musicians seemed to wield a creative power that transcended the mere act of recording songs and performing in front of a live audience. Artists like Bono and Bruce Springsteen are not just wildly popular singers and songwriters. They are cultural icons in the sense that they are identified with societal issues that are much larger than the sounds coming out of your i-pod.

They display a consciousness about the world around them, and a natural kinship or sense of bonding with the regular people. You know, the ones who might be crazy enough to travel around the country attending their shows, or spend all of their time, money and resources to acquire any and every material possession that relates in any way to their favorite artist.

Musicians like this are a thing of the past, seemingly. And the ones who are around today that still carry that kind of weight are certainly holdovers of a bygone era, i.e. individuals who began their careers when cassettes were the preferred music listening format (the 70s or 80s).

Any new artist that has come along in the past 10-15 years doesn’t seem to have that same kind of cultural magnitude. People are hot one minute, not the next. For instance, let’s take rock music. Even outstanding bands of the modern era like The Strokes, The Foo Fighters or Queens of the Stone Age are red-hot when they are on fire, but when they’re not they are instantly forgotten.

Well, ladies and germs, it seems like Lady Gaga, officially the white-hot queen of pop music, is on fucking fire and not going anywhere anytime soon. She’s like Madonna and Michael Jackson in the 80s all rolled up into one right now.

Nobody seems to have a negative opinion of her. Even people that don’t like her music love to give her credit for being so ‘different’ and ‘innovative.’

The purpose of this entry is not so much to criticize her musical acumen. After all, musical taste is all purely subjective. I might personally like and respect an artist like Amy Winehouse more than Lady Gaga, despite AW’s extremely unfortunate personal and substance addiction problems that have interfered with her career recently. And as far as I can tell (or as far as Wikipedia can tell me), both AW and LG write most of their own music, which is to be respected nowadays. But it doesn’t really matter what the reasons are for liking an artist, not liking an artist or feeling indifferent towards the artist. Just because Lady Gaga sells more records than Amy Winehouse doesn’t mean she’s any more or less skilled at her craft. By the accounts of critics or self-professed music junkies, Amy might have a better, more powerful pure vocal presence, but Gaga clearly knows how to transfix her fans in a way that goes far beyond the music. Not to mention that one of these young ladies is on top of the world right now and the other one is lucky to be alive, let alone currently off the musical map (I think you can guess who’s who).

For me, this is what it’s all about: LG has clearly cultivated a very specific identity and personality. Her fans aren’t so much buying her music as they are buying into what she’s all about. That’s always been the sign of any great artist, performer or entertainer, and she’s clearly figured that out at a younger age than any popular musician I can recall during my time consuming music.

She’s got this independence, this vibe of sensuality and sexuality (I think I heard she’s bi-sexual or something, but who the hell knows). She likes to wear insane costumes, and weird contraptions that look like birdcages that were left out in a hurricane. But there ain’t NOBODY else out there that anybody is confusing with Lady Gaga, or vice versa, know what I mean?

That, I do respect. Especially in our completely homogenized, identity-absent state of music, where all of these ‘rock’ bands sound like a bunch of whiney pussies and everything else is either country, American Idol winners or runners-up, or horrible R&B/auto-tune hip hop songs that are popular in the club but could never hold a candle to club bangers in the 80s and 90s (sorry to sound like your grandpa dissing the younger generation’s music, but it’s simply true, and I feel bad for anyone who fails to realize it).

Here’s another tip. Record sales don’t necessarily equal good music. The two are not always mutually exclusive. The model or standard set by The Beatles or Springsteen or U2 doesn’t always apply. In fact, it applies less now more than ever.

But with an artist like Lady Gaga, who clearly has more musical talent than a lot of the ‘artists’ who show up at a studio, sing a few mediocre bars over a song that they didn’t write, then wait while it gets auto-tuned and peppered with other enhancements to make it sound better (and it still doesn’t sound good), it’s hard to tell if she is completely self-aware and cognizant of how people perceive her and her career, or if she’s completely oblivious to it all and her success is coming to her in spite of that.

In other words, aside from her musical ability (she demonstrates a knack for hooks; a friend and co-worker of mine even compared some of her music to early 90s-era Madonna, and I can’t say I disagree), did she at any point make a decision that she would wear crazy clothes, talk openly about sexuality, heap on tons of makeup and ‘be a character’ essentially whenever in the public eye? Does she make an attempt to look bored and uncaring no matter what’s happening to her? I mean, honestly, how indifferent can she be when she’s walking the red carpet at the Grammys and is barely old enough to drink. I’m not buying it, sister. You’re goddamn excited, but you have to wear the frowny face because it’s part of your image. I get it.

Anyway, I suppose it’s possible none of this is an act, and that she’s completely being ‘Lady Gaga’ 100 percent of the time no matter what. But I highly, HIGHLY, doubt it. And if she were totally being herself, she’d go by a more traditional moniker. You know, one that doesn’t include the sound that a baby makes.

But if this is true, and she really has planned all of this out … wow. She either guessed extremely lucky, or is mentally advanced in a way that few of us can even comprehend. If she’s totally unaware and never had a plan, it’s the most egregious example of dumb luck I’ve ever seen (right up there with the parking garage attendant making less than $12 an hour in NYC a few years back who won the mega millions jackpot, and then his wife immediately filed for divorce).

The kicker behind it all … the music is just strong enough for it to have worked out for her. If it wasn’t, she wouldn’t be white/pink-hot, but dead fish-cold

Flippin' the Script

Okay chitlins, we’re all over the map today. Buckle up!

* Let’s start with this past weekend’s NFL divisional-round playoff games. Strong times to be had. Three out of the four of them weren’t really much to get all trumped up about. The Saints rolled the Cardinals, the Colts pulled away from Baltimore at the end and Minnesota basically embarrassed Dallas. But those fighting New York Football Jets just aren’t going anywhere right now. They battled, scrapped and beat the San Diego Chargers for their second straight road playoff victory, squeaking by 17-14, to get to the AFC Championship game for the first time since the ’98 season. Mark Sanchez continues to look way confident beyond his years (he’s only a rookie, by the Gods!) and that defense is straight-up frightening. Darrelle Revis, you are one talented man, and should have been the NFL Defensive MVP this season. Now we’ve got the Jets at Indianapolis (3 p.m.) and Minnesota at New Orleans (6:40 p.m.) on Sunday to determine who’s going to Super Bowl XLIV. I do know one thing – this seems to be the year of the indoor teams. Three of this past weekend’s four games were played in a dome, and both of this Sunday’s conference title games? Yep. At home in the dome. Noise plays a factor like nowhere else in these situations. Put it this way – when human voices, even if it is a LOT of them, can simulate the noise level of a commercial jet airliner … that’s frigging loud. I’d hate to be one of these opposing teams. Good luck to everyone. The Jets hysteria here in New York is catching on like hip-hugging jeans in the 80s, or Taco Bell’s new 89-cent, beefy five-layer burrito.

* Trying to get caught up on most of the Oscar buzz-worthy flicks before the Academy Awards next month. I’ve seen most of the usual suspects. Best picture seems to be quite wide open this year. ‘The Hurt Locker’ and ‘Up in the Air’ both seem like strong candidates. I’d love for ‘Precious’ to get serious consideration, but most people don’t have the stomach or constitution to fully invest emotionally in what it’s all about. It’s not easy, but if you make yourself get through it, you’ll see an amazing piece of cinema. ‘Up in the Air’ was quite strong, as it deals with subject matter that is very close to the core of what many people in our country are dealing with these days (unexpected job loss, a sense of alienation despite constantly being surrounded by people, pouring oneself into work while neglecting family out of a feeling of necessity to stay afloat, etc.). But above all else, it delves into the fact that relationships are the single most important piece of the puzzle for many of us, and how that dynamic affects everything else in our lives. Super relatable subject matter. Not difficult to imagine it striking a chord with the majority of voters. Whereas movies like ‘Precious’ and ‘The Hurt Locker’, although brilliant in their own right, explore worlds that are slightly more alien to many of us (unless you’re from the ghetto or have defused bombs in war-torn Iraq). Thusly, they lose some of that all-important relatability. Avatar is classic good vs. bad, with undercurrents of war and the environment, but it’s not all that well fleshed out in terms of its characters and plot once you get past all the visual eye candy and superstar CGI stuff. Tell you what might be the dark-horse candidate – Crazy Heart with Jeff Bridges. Why? Because it’s about country music, redemption, and getting one last shot. And as the title would suggest, it appears to have ‘heart.’ This one will resonate with a whole lot of people.  I’d personally endorse the Coen Brothers’ ‘A Serious Man,’ but again, it’s going to go over a lot of peoples’ heads. Not only must you appreciate the Coen Brothers’ quirky, darkly hilarious brand of humor to get into it, but a keen awareness of the more subtle and, especially, chuckle-inducing aspects of Jewish culture are also an integral part of enjoying the experience.

* Jersey Shore is a trainwreck in progress. We all know this by now. One cast member (Angelina) got kicked out of the house for failing to show up to her shift working at the farking T-SHIRT SHOP ON THE BOARDWALK, and another (Nicole a.k.a. ‘Snooki’) has been punched in the face not once, but TWICE, during the show’s filming at Seaside Heights in New Jersey this past summer. Oh and one of those shots to the grill was landed by a guy. Now THAT’S hardcore. And of course then there’s Mike ‘The Situation’, who is considered to be so intolerable, even by his own equally intolerable housemates’ standards, that nobody in the house even cares for him much anymore as the show winds its way down to what will no doubt be a gripping, thought-provoking, climactic finale this Thursday (Jan. 21^st). Sadly, because we are in the ‘Reality TV’ age, each and every one of these jarheads is likely to get way more than 15 minutes of fame. And we can all blame ourselves for eating this shit up with a spoon. Oh and by the way, only one of these cast members, Sammi Sweetheart – ironically, the apparent gold-star winner in this classroom of special-needs kids – is originally from New Jersey (and she’s not even from Seaside Heights). The rest of them? Six are from New York, and one is from Rhode Island. I didn’t quite know how to react to this when I looked it up, nor do I know now. I think this sums up the current state of pop culture quite well, no?

I’m Not Here to Talk About the Past

In sports news, former St. Louis Cardinals slugger and likely Hall of Fame candidate Mark McGwire admitted in a teary confession this week to having used steroids during much of his playing career, a revelation that is about as shocking as learning that people view Kanye West as a bit of a ‘loudmouth’ or ‘jackass’ at times.


Essentially, McGwire came clean and confessed to something that anyone who has closely followed baseball, or even professional sports generally, for the past several years has already known for quite some time. He stonewalled everyone at the Congressional Hearings on steroid usage in baseball back in 2005, claiming that ‘he isn’t here to talk about the past.’ Sure, he didn’t technically lie. But this is and was a classic case of his silence, at the time, speaking louder than any words ever could.

And now that he has spoken, he has truly said an incredulously dumb thing. He claims that he only took steroids to ‘heal injuries’ and ‘keep his body healthy’ through what is always a long grind of a 162-game regular season (playoffs, of course, not included). True, we all know by now that steroids can be effective in that capacity. But when asked by Bob Costas if McGwire thinks he would have still belted every single home run in his career without the added benefit of steroids, he said he DOES believe this. Holy. Moly.

Now, he does raise a fair point by acknowledging that hitting a home run is a God-given gift (theological disputes aside for the second), and that the hand-eye coordination and timing involved in performing this feat isn’t something that can be improved by taking steroids.

You know what Big Mac? I’ll give that one to you.

But do NOT sit there and try to feed us this B.S. that steroids don’t also improve your strength, which thereby allows you to hit the ball faster, higher, harder, and ultimately, most importantly, farther. Anything that increases strength gives you a clear advantage over others not under the same influences.

You know what else? Screw this, I’m not about to launch into the whole ‘steroids in baseball’ business. We’ve all heard every angle of it about 1,000 times now anyway in the ‘24/7 media circus’ day and age with sports channels that never go dark and every fan from the Arctic Circle to the North Pole having the ability to blog, or call up a radio show, or post a status update on facebook, or post a ‘tweet’ on twitter. (Yep, I’m falling into at least 2 of those categories myself, thank you!). There’s not much left to be said. But I’m at the point now, like many, where I don’t even blame these guys so much anymore. We all should blame the sport and it’s overseers that never implemented any sort of anti-performance enhancing drug policies through all the years.

Another question. How strict are the policies that exist now? What baseball should really do is randomly test each and every player in the league at different times throughout the pre-season and regular season – you know, so that they don’t see it coming. Yeah I know – too expensive, logistical nightmare, difficult to pull off, easier to test all of them at one pre-determined time. Also, way easier for them to circumvent the test and beat the system when they know about it weeks ahead of time. Even still, some of these boneheads continue to get caught (I’m talking to you, Manny).

I’d like to be able to just enjoy baseball again without all the steroids stuff lurking underneath the surface, but it is difficult. It will always be there. Unfortunately, most of us are over it by now. We don’t really care anymore.

But I do find it funny to think back to about 11 years ago, when I was seemingly one of the few people skeptically raising an eyebrow when that reporter found Androstenedione in McGwire’s locker during the infamous summer of ’98. Andro, for those that don’t know or recall, was a substance banned in both the NFL and NBA at the time, but was allowed in baseball and the NHL. I even wrote a column in my college newspaper’s sports section questioning why nobody seemed to care about this.

But we were all falling in love with baseball all over again during this glorious post-strike-of-’94 era because of the Sosa/McGwire home run chase, so nobody wanted to rain on the parade. I never liked that it was just glossed over. And if you can actually find any video of 1998-era McGwire interviews on youtube or any other Web site where he was asked about it, it’s easy to see how uncomfortable, surly and under-the-surface angry he was – even back then (at least that’s how I remember it). Sure, some of these guys aren’t the sharpest knives in the kitchen, but even the dumbest among them knew (know?) the ethical ramifications of what they were (are?) doing.

If we only knew what was in store for us over the next decade. But hey, Big Mac’s cleared the air now – he can begin his stint as the Cardinals’ hitting coach in the 2010 season guilt-free! Of course, that’s what this confession was really all about. Oh and because he probably still wants to get into the Hall of Fame, and we all know the only way to do that is to ‘fess up to your character issues and admit what you did wrong (Hey, if Pete can do it, pretty much anybody can, right?).