I'm. You're. Idle

Bowl Data

Note: You can also check this out on Lift While Climbing, which is run by some friends of mine.

A political candidate’s viability is often reduced to one simple but telling question: Would you want to have a beer with them? But sharing a few laffs over a pitcher of suds isn’t nearly as revealing as camping out in the rumpus room with a dimebag and a medium sausage lover’s. The real question should be: Would you want to get stoned with them? What follows are purely hypothetical stoner profiles of the leading 2008 presidential candidates:

THE DEMOCRATS

Hilary

- Preferred Paraphernalia – a glass pipe (name: Toots McSmokealot) purchased during her freshman year at Wellesley.

- Stoned Song – Journey, “Don’t Stop Believing.” Rated America’s #1 favorite song in a recent Gallup poll; confirmed by Hillary 2008 focus groups.

- Marijuana Movie – “Pretty Woman.” Because she’s still a hopeless romantic at heart.

- Munchies, man! – a 32 oz. porterhouse, very rare.

- Baked Babble – “Bill inhaled. I inhaled. Fucking Nixon inhaled. It was the seventies, for chrissake. Give me a break.”

- Dope Demeanor – Paranoid. Very paranoid.

Barack

- Preferred Paraphernalia – Cocaine blunts.

- Stoned Song – Rod Stewart, “Maggie May.” You’d think this would hurt his credibility within the black community, but in fact a large number of African American’s really love Rod the Mod. It’s just one of those weird things.

- Marijuana Movie – “Soul Plane,” allegedly. But he could just be overcompensating for the Rod Stewart thing. In his defense, it’s actually kind of a funny movie.

- Munchies, man! – Half a pack of Nicorette.

- Baked Babble – “Which is a weirder presidential name: Barack Hussein Obama or Millard Fillmore? Tough one, right?”

- Dope Deamanor – Cool as fuck. Homeboy makes Snoop look like Screech.

John E.

- Preferred Paraphernalia – a simple, workingman’s joint. Preferably smoked in the company of the family dog behind the toolshed.

- Stoned Song – Alan McGraw. Garth Tritt. Waylon Urban. Bruce Mellencamp. This is his country, damnit.

- Marijuana Movie – “Wild Hogs.” Anything with Tim Allen, really. John Edwards is one of you, America!

- Munchies, man! – Hominy. It simply doesn’t get more Red State than J-ward!

- Baked Babble – “I pay my Botox guy more than I pay my top consultant. A lot more.”

- Dope Demeanor – Very smiley. It’s kind of creepy.

THE REPUBLICANS

Rudy

- Preferred Paraphernalia – one of those metal cigarettes that’s actually a pipe. Because he’s sneaky!

- Stoned Songbook – Dean Martin. The original slick Italian. Ol’ Dino was like parmesan-encrusted catnip to impressionable legal secretaries back in the Attorney General days.

- Marijuana Movie – Previews of the Giuliani biopic commissioned by his campaign. Coming soon to a theater near you – “Did I Mention 9/11? The Rudy Giuliani Story,” directed by Jerry Bruckheimer.

- Munchies, man! – Judith Nathan

- Baked Babble – “You know what’s crazy? Ice cubes, man. They’re like these little, perfect squares of coldness, and we totally take them for granted. You know what else is crazy? That a pro-abortion, pro-gun control, pro-civil union New Yorker might win the South Carolina primary. That’s fucking crazy.”

- Dope Demeanor –Kind of jumpy. Constantly killing your buzz with inappropriate comments you try to forget.

Mitt

- Preferred Paraphernalia – a Coke can. Because if he’s going to indulge in the forbidden herb, why not make it a twofer and score some caffeine?

- Stoned Songbook – the Carpenter’s Christmas album. It reminds him of family, and Mitt Romney is all about family. But only wife. Don’t get it twisted.

- Marijuana Movie – “An Inconvenient Truth.” He was the governor of Massachusetts, alright?

- Munchies, man! – Pickles.

- Baked Babble – “Yeah, Mormons take a lot of shit, and some of the stuff we do is a little nutty, granted. But have you ever taken a close look at the Pope? Homeboy is walking around with a fucking sceptor. Why doesn’t anyone ask Rudy what that’s all about?

- Dope Demeanor – Pompously earnest. Earpous.

John McC .

- Preferred Paraphernalia – perfectly rolled joints of legal, medicinal marijuana. He can’t walk without them. Bad hip.

- Stoned Songbook – Cher, “Do You Believe in Life After Love?” His wife, Cindy, listens to it every morning during her nude step aerobics workout. She keeps him young, and he loves her for it.

- Marijuana Movie – “Apocalypse Now – The Director’s Cut.” And not necessarily because of Nam - it’s just a badass movie.

- Munchies, man! – Centrum Silver.

- Baked Babble – “You know who sucks? Pat Robertson. I meant it the first time. And you can fucking go to Wolf Blitzer with that – I don’t give a shit anymore.”

- Dope Demeanor – Tired, a little cranky, but oddly endearing.

A-Wood is Now Posting @ . . .

The Woodsonian National Institute.

For real this time.

iraq at the movies... awesome!

While film audiences had to wait almost a decade for the Vietnam War to be dissected on the silver screen, today’s fast paced information era almost demands for Iraq to be tackled in the cinema as quickly as Bush decided to invade it. A pair of feature films released over the next few weeks will bring us to the brink of the Iraq War, both at home and abroad, and offer glimpses as honest as any news broadcast. In Irwin Winkler’s Home of the Brave, the director crafts crisscrossing tales of four soldiers and their struggles in life after combat, while Phillip Haas’ The Situation opts for a more tense scrutiny of the shifting allegiances that are muddling the war effort and any chance of solution in the near future. Winkler’s film is an obvious a pro-soldier campaign meant to highlight the injustices done to the men and women of uniform, whose noble sacrifices are too often forgotten once home. Its heart is in the right place, but at time the films comes off as forced and would have benefited from singling in on one or two of its characters rather than trying to drape a plot over a vast cross section of the country. On the other hand, Haas’ film, drawn from the script of real life Iraq war journalist Wendell Steavenson , displays pinpoint accuracies on the strategies and interests at every angle in Iraq but falls short when it tries to develop an emotional arcs to tie it all together. In lieu of these intermittent flaws both films provide a clear view of how Iraq is changing our culture, and might just be the shot needed to get through to those anesthetized by today’s homogenous news reports.

Home of the Brave opens in the battlefields of Iraq, but is more concerned with the psychological scars that a battle carries than the tense action of urban warfare. After their platoon is ambushed and they suffer varying degrees of loss, Dr. Will Marsh (Samuel L. Jackson), Vanessa Price (Jessica Biel), Jamal Aiken (Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson), and Tommy Yates (Brian Presely) all return to their own struggles at homes in Spokane, Washington. Unfortunately, Biel is no more believable as an amputee gym instructor as she is a flaxen haired soldier. But when she laments that her inabilities to adjust are only met with longer lists of drug prescriptions there is a note of truth, and its these moments where the film succeeds best. Both Jacksons’ stories seem tired as the older one channels his anger towards the bottle, and the younger rapper-turned thespian simply turns his towards inexpressive mumblings. Their resolutions, one bitter and the other sweet, can be seen coming a long way off and neither are given much room to ventures past their one note characters. Lastly, it is Presely’s attempts to find acceptance back home that are the most angst ridden and heartfelt. Bouncing around dead end jobs, he must defend himself from a father who won’t or can’t understand his feelings of guilt, and strains to justify the U.S. mission to his dead comrade’s girlfriend (Christina Ricci).

wow, even Jessica Biel knows that war is hell

In his final narration, there is a clear glimpse of the mentality that propels soldier towards harm’s way again and again. At times Home of the Brave may be too sappy, and some of its well worn clichés are just pale imitations of those in Deer Hunter, it is at least a film for a new generation of war veterans. At a time when awareness is just as paramount, if not much more expected, it is a welcome dose of reality and its timely release hopefully represents a changing tide in acceptance and confrontation of the unseen wounds of war.

someone get these motherf$%*ing insurgents out this motherf#@&ing country

Much less pro-American, but no less accurate, The Situation offers a disturbing look at why the troubles in Iraq may only be growing worse. At the center of the story lays an American journalist (Connie Nielsen), and her relationships with a U.S. intelligence officer (Damien Lewis) and an Iraqi photographer (Mido Hamada). But the love triangle here is underdeveloped, too often deterring from the half dozen other story lines of personal loyalties that boil over between Americans, insurgents, police, civilians, diplomats and journalists.

better, and done by all time anti-bush man O. Stone

The film begins with an American patrol tossing a pair of boys over a bridge, killing one and inciting more ire from the locals. Not far away, an insurgent leader promises revenge, while hiding out from the American supported police force, which it turns its little more than a band of thugs operating along old tribal feuds. Haas cleverly reveals each party guilty of their own cold-blooded murders, and his tale is one with no clear cut answer, and his sympathies lie mostly with those who are not given the luxury of choosing sides or documenting them, but must simply duck at the signs of danger. Despite his journalist themes baring striking similarities to those of Oliver Stone’s El Salvador, Haas has still made a tense and unique film. He places most of the violence at the periphery of his characters’ lives in a chilling effect that submerges the audience in the perils an unclear war, and leaves little time for judgments. Towards the end of the film as the different paths of his characters begin to collide, one surmises the problems of Iraq succinctly, “There are no bad guys and there are no good guys. It’s not gray, either. It’s just that the truth shifts according to each person you talk to.”

Thankfully, both films are not content with the head shaking lamentations of past generations and signal a new direction towards addressing today’s conflicts as they are unfolding. While this bold move will no doubt further polarize the issues, it takes away excuses of ignorance and moves away from hapless regret. Rather, both Winkler and Haas want to push us further into a discourse that may possibly consider a solution in time.

Awww, poop. Budget cut backs only provide round trip airfare for dead soldiers... that's bootleg

Free Drama & Cannon!

This is truly some bullshit.

On the other hand, it's nice to see that a major city like Atlanta has so little crime that they can rent out their police force to the RIAA (a private organization btw) so they can arrest a couple mixtape DJs and destroy 81,000 CDs.

Welcome!!

Greg Oden: Certified Baller

For those that don't know (?), Greg Oden is the 7-foot freshman center out of Ohio State. Basically, if Stern hadn't instituted the age limit, last year's draft would've been known as the Greg Oden Sweepstakes.

I'm not sure I'm a fan of the age limit, but I'm kind of glad to see big homie ball it up in college. It's not only that he's the biggest guy on the court, but he has a real presence out there. Everyone involved with the game, from the players to the coaches to the announcers to the fans, know where he is on the court at all times.

And it's not only that he looks like he's 45 years-old,

but he has a real gravity out there. Everything he does, matters.

Greg Oden is about something.

It seems like he could walk right off the court and read Russian novels and eat beluga caviar or something. I don't say this too often, but I think he could even pull off a top hat and/or monocle. Maybe with nice white gloves.

In other words, I expect great things.

R.I.P. Noodle Man

In honor of the death of Momofuku Ando, I'm posting a recipe I recently submitted to a workplace cookbook.

Top Ramen: A Primer

Let’s get one thing straight – this is not a joke. I’ve been eating and cooking Top Ramen ever since my molars came in, and by the time I graduated from college my mastery of the noodle arts was recognized in dormitories far and wide. A breakdown:

Flavor: When I was young and my tastebuds hadn’t yet developed, it was Beef or nothing. A teenage flirtation with vegetarianism necessitated a switch to Oriental, although I later learned that every flavor contains animal stock. The time I spent with both of these flavors was special, but I couldn’t shake the haunting sense that something was missing. It all came together by chance – I was ravenously hungry, and the only flavor left in the house was Chicken, my younger sister’s favorite. Swallowing my pride, I decided to give the strange yellow powder a shot. The rest is history.

Water: Two cups, and not a drop more or less.

Cooking Time: It’s hard to fault a company that has provided me with so much happiness at such a small price, but I simply cannot understand why Nissin Foods instructs their loyal customers to boil the noodles for a paltry three minutes. Listen, and listen closely: boil the noodles until almost all of the water has evaporated. I don’t care whether it takes five minutes or two hours. Remember, young grasshopper, patience is a virtue.

Supplemental ingredients: You can’t take it to the next level until mastering this aspect of the ramen game. The key is knowing your limits.

Beginner: Onions. Throw ‘em in with the noodles and forget about it.

Intermediate: Mushrooms and green onions. Add them too early and you end up with mushy mushrooms and brown green onions. Add them too late and your soup becomes a dysfunctional salad.

Advanced: Egg. The coup de grace. To be added ever so gently in the final minute of cooking.

Don’t even get me started on grilled cheese.

The Fourth Annual Thug Awards (aka the HoTties)

Four years. I have been blogging longer than anybody on the damn planet. Somebody please pay me.

Anyway, let's get right to it:

Jerry Sloan Award: Jerry Sloan
Runner-up: Isiah Thomas

Last year, it was kind of a stretch to give it to him. But this go-round, his team is right up there near the top out West. Even more notably, Sloan has changed with the times. The NBA has gone small and wacky, so Jerry is running his boys like they're on truck-stop meth and he's rolling with a dude from West Virginia with a backyard tattoo on his arm and a frontcourt littered with fauxhawked Euros.

Plus, he just won his 1000th game. And he's the longest-tenured coach in American pro sports. Good stuff, Sloan. Good stuff.

Team of the Year: New York Knicks
Runner-up: Cincinnati "8 out of 53 Players Have Been Arrested This Year" Bengals

You really can't ask for more from a team. I hope and pray someone is writing a book or filming these dudes. I have never been more fascinated with any group of people, I don't think. I mean, Isiah Thomas should probably be in jail and he's being allowed to run one of the most popular and recognizable organizations in the world of pro sports. What kind of world are we living in that allows this? David Stern must be getting high because if he really wanted to he could have Zeke, Dolan and Marbury demoted to the Slovakian league or some shit and nobody would even complain. Even the Player's Union would just kind of shrug it off. As I said in my season previews, I can't offer any speculations on what may happen to this franchise. I only know it will be spectacular. Thanks for the memories, 'bockers!

Baller of the Year: Kobe Bryant
Runner-up: LeBron James

I know he's not in the headlines like he once was, but let's not forget that this year began with the baller formerly known as KB8 dropping 81 on the hapless Raptors. He also had the highest scoring average since Jordan at over 35 per, he nearly willed his overachieving squad to the Western Conference Finals and this year he's got them comfortably in playoff position, while working himself back into shape. Yes, there was that perplexing half against Phoenix when he appeared to ease off of his Mamba steez, but if Phil can forgive him, I'm sure the rest of us can too, right?

Until LeBron stops biting his fingernails and taking nights off, Kobe's the best basketball player in the universe.

On to the Hip-Hop Awards:

Line of the Year: "Ya’ll respect the one who got shot, I respect the shooter" - Jay-Z
Runner-up: "And I'm sorry to the fans but them crackers weren't playing fair -- Jive" - Pusha T

Jigga didn't even try to rhyme this line. He just goes right out and says, "50-Cent's a snitch and snitches deserve to get shot." On a Dre track, no less.

Verse of the Year (tie): Lil' Wayne's verse on "Hollywood Divorce"/Andre 3000's verse on the "Walk it Out" remix

Through the haze of one of the most drug-addledly prolific years in hip-hop history (not to mention the most disappointing album of the year), Wayne pauses and takes a look at what's really going on in his life and this world. And it's so fucking sad that he nearly divorces Baby right there in front of us. Andre's verse is the flip-side to that, in a wacky Southern hip-hop way. Still, the one of the best rappers in the game, he's teasing us with this. He doesn't think we're ready for the angry Dre to tell us what's really on his mind for an hours-worth of music and he's probably right. So he just sabotages some asshole's club record and and plays an undertaker in a major studio Prohibition-era musical. Sounds about right.

Song/Video of the Year: "We Fly High" - Jim Jones
Runner-up: "Mr. Me Too" - Clipse

You may not like it, I may not like it, but my gut is telling me that this is the Song of the Year. And it really doesn't have that much to do with Jim Jones, even. This track was just ubiquitous. It was originally released in the spring, I think, and its profile just kept growing and growing. First it was the summer anthem of the NYC. Then it was the foundation for Jay-Z's first dis track in years. Then it was remade into a Jay-Z dis track. Then this video was put out and everyone went nuts for it all over again. I'm not condoning this type of thing, but they really are playing with an absolutely amazing amount of money in that clip. I urge you to check it out. Jim Jones will be shouting "BALLLLIIIIIIINNNNNNN!!!" for the next three decades. This song is an industry unto itself. (note: I'd love to put "Black Republican" up there, but I get the feeling that Nas, himself, doesn't even like the track. No video?)

Album of the Year: Clipse - Hell Hath No Fury
Runner-up (tie): Lil' Wayne and DJ Drama - Dedication 2/Ghostface Killah - Fishscale

Finally. An album with one sound, one artistic vision, one producer and absolutely no filler. It was almost worth the wait. Pusha T and Malice have Pharrell at their disposal and don't even try to put any hits on this record. The only "club" song on it disses their record company and sounds like a factory conveyor belt. The only other music I can really compare this to is the deep, dark, paranoid drum n' bass coming out of the U.K. in the mid to late 90s. Its hardcore shit, but there are sounds layered above the chaos and frenetic drumbeats that make it strangely beautiful. Tracks like "Ride Around Shinin'," "Keys Open Doors" and "New World" are probably what Nas had in mind when he thought up "Hip-Hop is Dead." This music embodies a different spirit, altogether. It's not party music, socially conscious or even boastful in the least. It's music to listen to while you wait for the apocalypse.

Producer of the Year: Pharrell
Runner-up: Timbaland

In a down year for producers, homeboy put out two albums that each sounded like nothing else out there. Sadly, though, he may just be too weird for the current hip-hop establishment. He's Slick Rick without the jail sentence, so his "I'm the shit" moments are written off as flamboyant and excessive. Still, though, his influence is felt everywhere. He basically invented Snap music four years ago and now no-talent assclowns by the dozens are making their name off of it. Meanwhile, Skateboard P isn't even worrying about cashing in on his trend. He's hopping off planes with Puff, laughing. He's years ahead of 98% of the current hip-hop beatmakers out there. Too bad that the current cutthroat, disposable marketplace won't ever be able to catch up to "In My Mind." There are some true heatrocks on there.

Rapper of the Year: Lil' Wayne
Runner-up: Ghostface

Weezy had the best year of any rapper since Jay-Z in 2003. And he might have even blown Hov out of the water. Wayne starts off the year with the extremely listenable Carter 2. Puts out two incredible mixtapes, Dedication 2 and Lil Weezyana. Gets arrested for weed and pills. Drops guest-verses all over the damn place. Releases Like Father, Like Son seemingly out of thin air. Drops the most politically charged track of the year, "Georgia Bush," almost by accident. He was so good this year that he gets caught in a lie about his age and a picture surfaces of him mouth-kissing his "Daddy" and the entire hip-hop community decides to give him a pass. Is he the Greatest Rapper Alive? It's no contest at this point.

Thug of the Year: Sasha Baron Cohen
Runner(s)-up: Al Gore, Alexander Litvinenko, Gianluigi Buffon/Fabio Cannavero, Lil' Wayne, Kobe Bryant, Vince Young, Zinedine Zidane, Hugo Chavez

As I look back on the 2K6, the one word that really comes to mind is default. Yes, music was better this year than last and Americans finally have begun to realize that the mafia running this country is only out for themselves, but for the most part, it seemed like everyone was kind of waiting around. For what, I don't know. But not too many people were taking chances and going for the gusto, as Raekwon might say. For proof look no further than Time magazine's person of the year. You. What the fuck? This world is sliding further and further into disrepair and the best they could come up with was fucking YouTube? It may already be too late.

That's just a long-winded way of saying, in a year of staggering mediocrity, Sasha Baron Cohen was a lone beacon of light. With assists from a disgustingly fat Eastern European dude, a town of pissed Romanians, and Pam Anderson, Cohen put a mirror up to America and, once you get past the naked man-wrestling and gypsy jokes, the results were incredibly depressing and sometimes scary. Still, Cohen trudged through the country with seemingly no fear. Sure, he had the monetary backing of a major media conglomerate, but he was on his own, living as Borat and going places and doing things that maybe nobody else in the world would have the courage to even think up. And he knew exactly what he was doing and exactly what the effect would be. It took an Orthodox Jewish comic from Britain playing a anti-Semitic journalist from Kazahkstan to step up and tell us how disgusting our society is. But at least somebody stepped up.

And he's banging this lovely lady:

Let's stop snitching in the 2K7. Aight?

Peace.

R.I.P. James Brown

A Year in Review (abridged ed.)

For all of those self-agrondizing schmucks miring in a pile of their putrid victories of verbose verbatim, and filled with hope of the coming new year with the reconoidering of their own liberalist guilt, I offer only sage advice that we are indeed not on the precipice of great change, forthright thinking or even bluer skies...

A Democratic victory would not change the world, but it would at least slow the berserk white-trash momentum of the bombs-and-Jesus crowd. Those people have had their way long enough. Not even the book of Revelations threatens a plague of vengeful yahoos. We all need a rest from this pomgrom. - HST 9/1/86

In fact it's really just business as usual and I suggest y'all just marinate on that for a minute (right Andre?)

Who knew that Motley Crue had such breadth and scope in their influences, and in the 90s no less

in this world, the bad guys can win

R.I.P. Ahmet Ertegun

Read up, fools.

news flash hip hop is dead?

VS

or is it?

well maybe...

then again it's all a matter of opinion

so decide for yo'self

and holla back...

Please Make a Jungle Remix of "Hell Hath No Fury"

The album is just begging for it. And I don't have the technical know-how.

Holla.

So that's what its used for?

Quick Poll

Settle the debate over what you would name your kid:

(a) Plaxico Burress

(b) D'Brickashaw Ferguson

Tallyin the comments. Thanks.

The Cruelty is Too Much

With his lips quivering and voice breaking, a tearful President Hamid Karzai on Sunday lamented that Afghan children are being killed by NATO and U.S. bombs and by terrorists from Pakistan _ a portrait of helplessness in the face of spiraling chaos.

In a heartfelt speech that brought audience members to tears, Karzai said the cruelty imposed on his people "is too much" and that Afghanistan cannot stop "the coalition from killing our children."

"We can't prevent the terrorists from coming from Pakistan, and we can't prevent the coalition from bombing the terrorists, and our children are dying because of this," he said.

The president, who turned tearful after relating stories of children maimed by bombings, took long pauses between sentences and at one point covered both eyes with a white handkerchief.

A single tear rolled down his right cheek and bounced off his suit lapel.

"Cruelty at the highest level," he said, his lower lip quivering. "The cruelty is too much."

The taped speech was shown later on state TV, though that broadcast and other news shows did not show Karzai crying.

Karzai's spokesman, Khaleeq Ahmed, said the president was saddened over the deaths of a 2-year-old child and two Afghan teachers on Saturday _ "and it really got to him." Ahmed said Karzai was not trying to send any larger message to NATO or the United States about their presence here.

"I think what he was trying to say is that our country _ 30 years of war has made us so weak that we don't have the institutions to control these types of things," Ahmed said.

Afghanistan has seen more than 100 suicide attacks this year, a record number, and close to 4,000 people have died in insurgency-related violence.

via the AP

Good policy is difficult to make when information is systematically collected in a way that minimizes its discrepancy with policy goals

I can't even find words to describe how disgusting this is:

WASHINGTON - U.S. military and intelligence officials have systematically underreported the violence in Iraq in order to suit the Bush administration's policy goals, the bipartisan Iraq Study Group said.

The panel pointed to one day last July when U.S. officials reported 93 attacks or significant acts of violence. "Yet a careful review of the reports for that single day brought to light 1,100 acts of violence," it said.

"The standard for recording attacks acts as a filter to keep events out of reports and databases." It said, for example, that a murder of an Iraqi is not necessarily counted as an attack, and a roadside bomb or a rocket or mortar attack that doesn't hurt U.S. personnel doesn't count, either. Also, if the source of a sectarian attack is not determined, that assault is not added to the database of violence incidents.

"Good policy is difficult to make when information is systematically collected in a way that minimizes its discrepancy with policy goals," the report said.

I'm honestly believe Bush and co. have done enough to be tried for crimes against humanity. I really wish I were exaggerating.

king, cotto, and more

Some where in the deluge of Don King’s latest press conference at the Rockefeller Center, where once again hyperbole exceeded in the utmost, his liturgy veered towards perhaps the best summation of the man himself. “What you have seen before, you will see again,” he said. Somewhere between his utterances of “you know what I mean,” he began to sell us all on the significance of Sam Peter vs. James Toney II: Redemption and proved that if nothing else, he sure can talk

King, who only a few months back was politicking around with Nikolai Valuev and one quarter to the claim of Heavyweight Champion of the World, is back tending his irons in the fire. He so desperately seeks to re-invigorate boxing. “No one has got their fingers on the pulse of the people,” he confessed. Even though boxing’s current state is an “equal opportunity,” King hopes it is not long before some talent snatches up the wide-spread attention of past generations. And he means to produce that star, or at the very least acquire it.

As much as Don King searches for the passion he tapped so famously in 1974 with the Rumble in the Jungle, it seems unfair to sit through both the search and his self-congratulations. It is a fruitless task to look for a man as dynamic as Muhammad Ali. But try telling that to King who introduced most of his guests during the two-hour plus program as “dynamic.” Pausing between his speeches he allowed for a litany of praise from the other promoters hovering on the dais with him. Listening to Dan Goosen, Lou Duva, and his son Dino, served only to push the event past saturation. Everyone praised King’s character and personality so thoroughly it almost seemed suspicious.

And rather than leave any down time to wonder at those lingering doubts, the opportunistic King injected the fight with further, if not ancillary, significance. He attached himself to Florida’s never conquered Seminole Tribe with a Shaman’s blessing to begin the day. He also pointed out the attendance of a dozen or so Nigerian dignitaries in an effort to attest to Peter’s dedicated following. And he trumpeted Toney, whose undeniable skill, but questionable effort, has followed him up the scales. With each introduction and anecdote, King gathered steam with his talk of another “historic event.” He even found time to plug the co-main event between Jose Antonio Rivera and Travis Simms, where the WBA Light Middleweight belt is at stake.

Yet the sentiment of importance faded as King led the audience through video segments of his past successes, an infomercial-like introduction to the fight hosting Hard Rock Casino, and highlight of the upcoming fight’s contestants. The first match-up between Peter and Toney was narrowly captured by Peter in split decision that the mandatory rematch almost needs no promotion. To the victor of the January 6th contest will go both the IBA and NABF heavyweight straps, and the right to challenge WBC title holder Oleg Maskaev, who waits for the victor by fighting the much less formidable Peter Okhello next week. But King is as fine an opportunist as a wordsmith, and he knows better than to let a fight rest on its laurels, without further to-do.

Thankfully both Peter and Toney are taking this fight much more seriously, without giving each other much respect. Toney has given up his infamous cigars, buckled down on his nutrition, and even enlisted the likes of Tae-Bo’s Billy Blanks to improve his stamina. Goosen may have fumbled up in his own semantics, when he explained that in the last fight Toney “was not out of shape, he was just not in the best condition.” But Toney offered a more honest answer, as he remained uncharacteristically in-check. “My peoples want the best from me, and they the boss. They do their job and I’ll do mine,” he said. “They say an old man don’t listen, but I’m different.” Still, Toney is just as confident as he has always been and denied that Peter ever hurt him in their first fight.

Similarly, Peter is undeterred by Toney’s new approach and willing to defend his name, title and people again. “He fights the same for over 80 fights,” Peter said. “They are trying to take what belongs to me. This fight means a lot to me.”

However, following the press conference even Peter admitted, albeit in the elevator ride down presumably safe from the media’s probing ear, that he felt exhausted by King’s lengthy ordeal. “He talks too much, he almost put me to sleep,” he said as his team joked that King himself would be a likely candidate to speak at the unveiling of his own statue.

But what else should we expect from King, who used one of his tried and truest jokes when he answered his phone at the podium, “Mr. President I’ll have to call you back.” After all he is still a showman in his own right, and he means to sell his show like any other promoter would.

Take for instance Bob Arum’s recent post-fight press conference for the newly crowned WBA welterweight champion Miguel Cotto. Like a proud father, Arum smiled talking about Cotto’s future and promised a campaign to bill him as the pound-for-pound best next year. Although Cotto has virtually destroyed everyone put before him, that title still seems premature. He looked stronger at his new weight, knocking the previously unbeaten Carlos Quintana out with a liver shot. But what will he be like if he ever faces an opponent of his own caliber? Cotto admitted that Quintana was “not at my level,” but backed that up with, “whoever my promotional team puts in front of me I will beat.”

Arum is not afraid to test his theory, and even began talking about a unification bout with the last Saturday’s other big victor, WBO welterweight champion Antonio Margarito. Unfortunately, Margarito was absent from the conversation as his unanimous decision over Joshua Clottey took its toll and sent the fighter to the hospital for inspection on a sore jaw and hand. “I’ll train for anyone. Margarito is a great champion, but I’ll beat him,” said Cotto, whose next opponent is the conspicuously lesser-ranked Oktay Urkal.

Cotto, of course, considers himself the best fighter now at 147-lbs, and left the debate for the greatest to others, even appreciating his detractors. “The people and the press choose who the best pound-for-pound is,” he said. “I thank those who are behind me, and those who aren’t because it all helps.” But Cotto still has to prove his worth to the crowded circle in which he now resides. Not surprisingly, the Puerto Rican phenom does not make the ultimate decision. “My job is to train and fight,” he said. “It is not my job to choose my opponents or who I will fight next.”

Back at King’s press conference, the circus of boxing continued as the growing audience eventually included Luis Collazo. The former welterweight champ was all too pleased to cast dispersion on Cotto and provided King, and Arum as well, with even more promotional fodder, if only for down the road. “Cotto, if he gets in the ring with myself, is in trouble,” Collazo said, grinning. “If he fights me I guarantee he’ll go back down, and then people can see the fight between he and Ricky Hatton that everyone was talking about.”

And just like that, King’s press conference fed off itself and gave further proof that without him, boxing would only be a fraction of itself.

50 Shots

Papoose breaks down the killing of Sean Bell by the NYPD with this track, "50 Shots." I'm not sure if I really love the song, and I'm definitely not a fan of Papoose, but homeslice definitely did his homework. I respect that. Obviously, we need more music like this if we want to start the revolution.

that's that GOOD shit

Now I don't claim to be up on current events in the entertainment world (unless it includes tom cruise's blaintant homosexuality- not that there's anything wrong with that). Whomsever, every once and while I manage to get my paws on some of that's that good shit, and let me tell you The Wire is where it's at.

24?
That aint nothin' but some rehashed TJ Hooker (albeit a suave lookin' version of Shatner's fat ass ) and his blond version of punky brewster sharing some sweeet moments between international acts of terrorism. Add in all the those hi-tech gizmos (I once saw jack bauer speak at a computer screen and somebody heard him in an office like two counties away) and you got the same old shit from Inpector Gadget but updated with post-9/11 importance...

Desperate Housewives?
That's just The Facts of Life with no fat bitches a few years later when them girls is aloud to have proper libidos.

They just got better stylists...

Lost?
That's just some straight up Saved By the Bell, Original, The College Years, and the New Class all rolled up with some violence instead of after school lessons on the beach.

am I wrong? am I wrong?

But, i'm tellin' yall, if you really want to get that real, real shit. Then follow the path of Detectives McNutty and his ace boone _____ Bunk

For real, this shit the closest you'll ever get to a novel on TV. And if that don't do it for ya, then crack a book...

"the fuck did you call me, mutha fucka? you best not be raisin up on me."

You Broke My Heart

Watching Seinfeld will never be the same again.

He's baaaaaaack...

That's right folks, the vinniest of testaverdes is coming back, for one more shot. I'm kind of torn now, can anybody legitimately root for Vinny Testaverde to win a Super Bowl ring? That'd be about as easy to swallow as that (Papua New) Guinea bastard winning the heisman...

And by the way, is the position of NFL quarterback that punishing that guys like Testaverde, Trent Green, Kerry Collins, Kyle Couch, Jeff Garcia, Kurt Warner, and Brad Johnson can continue to play year after year even when they've been exposed as the likes of
Scott Mitchell.

What's next, rename the Vince Lombardi trophy after Wayne Fontes?

notice the lack of rings

HOLLA

Did I mention that the Bears also went into the history books by taking advantage of Tom Coughlin's dumb ass coaching strategy (which consists of whining till he gets his way, or pouting if he doesn't) and straight schooled the field goal unit?

Props to the Bears again, for throwing that stupid jump shot celebration back in the g-(wo)men's face. I'm not sure if there's anything less gracefull then watching a lineman practice a jumper

haters gotta hate, and lovers gotta love
but i don't want any of the above...
i want to piss on you

news flash: Eli Manning SUCKS

Thank god for the Monsters of the Midway for (once again) exposing the many weakness of wittle ole Eli. I mean I don't know if i could take another week of hearing about Eli and his fourth quarter comebacks and his legacy and how he might just be the best quaterback in the history of the world. Face it, if this kid wasn't playing in NYC where every move is analyzed and re-analyzed to give it a positive spin so locals will by into the hype, he'd be just another Joey Harrington- if that.

Come on, even Peyton thinks that he is overrated.

See You in Hell!

I haven't been this excited since the Nets beat the Pacers in the 2002 Playoffs!

Red Auerbach R.I.P.

Sumner Redstone, Renegade of Funk

Viacom chairman, Sumner Redstone giving a keynote in DC yesterday:

"Unfortunately, we find ourselves in a world where, increasingly and alarmingly, a couple thousand form complaints from people condemning shows that they have never watched can result in an indecency fine 10 times higher than a year ago. In a world where these same form complaints can lead regulators to dictate business models that ultimately do more harm than good. And yes, in a world where entertainment and news executives, musicians and artists are living in a great deal of fear . . .

"If the public is not happy with a particular program, then they won't watch it, and it will go off air. Government censorship -- and by this I mean imposing any kind of burden or penalty on those who publish protected speech -- circumvents this process. This is particularly pernicious not only because it is prohibited by the Constitution but also because it can be abused by the government . . .

"High-handed government interference in a constitutionally protected enterprise puts the nation at risk. Give the government the tools to punish those it doesn't like or silence what it doesn't want to hear, and you undermine democracy. Give people the tools to choose what they see and hear, and you enhance democracy."

Oh, and get well soon, Fabolous.

Mike Tyson and Bobby Brown Monster Mash

Now, I'm certainly smart enought to know not to make fun of Mike Tyson. After all he's a convicted rapist, serial biter, and has even threatened to eat the children of his opponents. (He also told Kevin McBride he would crush him like a can of tomato soup... unfortunately, Mike lost that match when he refused to leave his stool after the fourth round)

But at any rate what can you say when one of boxing's most pitifully fallen champions does a duet with Bobby Brown, who is well just a pitiful drug addicted entertainer...

Oh yes, will be laughs, and a shudder or two

Thuggin' NBA Preview - the Central
Every last team in this division should make the playoffs. It's not as much of a juggernaut as last year's version (where Indy and Detroit were Championship contenders at the beginning of the season), but it's still pretty beastly. And Stephen Jackson loves guns and strip clubs and pot.

Indiana Pacers

If there was a team that would fall out of playoff contention in the Central this year, it would be this squad. For all of their talent, athleticism, neck tattoos, gun play, gang affiliations and all-around ruggedness, this team still doesn't have a damn point guard. I know. I know. Jamaal Fucking Tinsley. Guess what? He smokes a ton of weed with strippers at 4 a.m. and he's never been healthy for more than three weeks in his whole life. It's really mind-boggling that Donnie Walsh and Larry Bird, in all of their infinite basketball wisdom, have not done anything to plug this gaping hole. Instead they've used the patented Atlanta Hawk get a ton of small forwards and pretend one of them can play point guard method. With Marquis Daniels being the Joe Johnson of this group. I mean, what do they really think Al Harrington, Queesy, Granger and rookie Shawne Williams will really bring to the table? Nice length for the three spot? Also, Jermaine O'Neal is not a championship-type franchise superstar. He needs some big dawg support for this team to do some things. Their best hope is to put JO at the 5 and Harrington at the 4 and play some small-ball. Carlisle doesn't seem like a small-ball type of dude, though.

Milwaukee Bucks

This team has a good mix and I think they may do some big things in the coming years. But for now I see a 6-7 playoff berth and some high-scoring games. With Mo Williams, Charlie Villanueva and Mike Redd, this crew will really be nice on offense. With stoppers like Bobby Simmons and Ruben Patterson, now a registered sex offender in the state of Wisconsin, they . . . who am I kidding. I really don't care about this team. Unless Bogut gets caught with an unregistered rifle at a keg party in Madison, they'll get lost in the mix. They do provide some nice fantasy options and they'll get to the playoffs but unless you're a hardcore fan, they'll keep a pretty low profile. And they're wearing these weird Christmas uniforms this season.

Detroit Pistons

Remember the old Sheed? The dude who used to get high and pound Smirnoff Ice on the way home from games? The dude that threw a towel in an enormous Lithuanian legend's face in the middle of a game? Well, he's back, people. Flip Saunders has already lost control of this team and preseason hasn't started. Way back in the 2K4 you had an immortal hard-ass coach keeping these guys in check. Last year Big Ben provided some stability. Now they went and replaced him with Nazr Mohammed and they're installing the zone defense. I guess this team can score a lot, but really, the magic's gone. For Motown to truly be title contenders they're gonna have to blow up this squad and build around Tayshaun Prince's odd and creepy body frame. Things could get ugly this year in Pistons-land. And when things get ugly in Detroit people burn things.

Chicago Bulls

I know I'm putting the Bulls pretty high but I'm not sipping the codeine cough syrup, so to speak. I think they have a chance to be the fourth best team in the East, but that's only because, as I see it, the Pacers and the Pistons have taken pretty sizable steps back in the last year or two. Of course, I'm alluding to the P.J. Brown trade. Nobody changes a franchise like the Peej. In all seriousness, and I know this point has been beaten to death, what does Ben Wallace bring to the table that Tyson Chandler didn't? Two, three more rebounds per game? A worse free throw percentage? Scarier features? A better work ethic? They're pretty much the same player, only Big Ben has a better publicist. OK, maybe I'm exaggerating. But I really think this move is only good for 5 more wins at the most. The Bulls were already a rugged defensive-minded team with a hard-nosed leader on the bench in Scott Skiles and on the floor with Kirk Hinrich. (I'm guessing. Haven't spent too much time on the court or in the locker room with these guys.) Big Ben is really the icing on the cake. And really expensive icing that can't make a damn free throw. So Chi-town's really back to where they were last year. Grinding out wins, playing four-on-five on offense. But they're a young feisty team and they'll improve this year. But anyone who thinks they can win it all this year, might as well lick off five shots in a strip club parking lot in Indy. That's crazy talk.

Cleveland Cavaliers

Truthfully, the Cavs could win it all this year. Word on the street is that LeBron has been working on his D and this squad has only gotten to know each other better since last year's wild and crazy playoff run. As The Cavalier loves to point out, this team essentially ran no offensive plays last year. They just gave the ball to King James and watched him completely work over everyone in the league. Still, this team has weapons beside LBJ. Like a 7-4 Lithuanian All-Star at center. This isn't a Kobe/Shaq type situation at all, but if the Cavs make the most of Big Z's immense size and skill set, nobody's really fucking with them. They got the good-looking Drew Gooden and Larry Hughes to do some dirty work, Donyell can hit some shots off the bench, Eric Snow can walk the ball up to half-court, pass to Bron and play defense and Damon Jones can cheer from the sidelines and guest-star in episodes of Next or Parental Control or some shit. People in the know are high on their rookies, so the opportunities are boundless for this team. Pencil them in for the Eastern Conference Finals. As I see it, they're just an arthritic Shaq toe away from being the favorites to come out of this conference.

Goliath crushes David

For ten rounds Monte Barrett fought the fight of his life, and perhaps one of the most uphill battles in recent memory. But neither his heart nor his ‘Two Gunz’ could phase the cold and lumbering precision of Nikolay Valuev. Despite landing clean shots with an unorthodox haymaker style, Barrett was knocked down twice in the 11th round, prompting his trainer James Barish to throw in the towel. “I saw that Monte was tiring and hurt, there was no need to go on,” said Barish following the fight. “He should be given some respect for his performance tonight.”

And even though Valuev stated, “I don’t want to know this man,” at the pre-fight press conference, he extended a gracious hand to his foe following the match. In his continued effort to endear himself to American fans, Valuev tipped his hat to Barrett and his courage throughout the night. “Monte showed me what real tough American boxing is,” he said through a translator.

In the first half of the match, Barrett seemed to have a fighting chance if he could carry the giant Russian to the distance. Unfortunately, at the conclusion of the contest the judges score cards revealed strangely that Barrett didn’t have a chance. But from the onset, Barrett actually out boxed his opponent, despite doing little to no damage to him. He was timing Valuev’s downward rights, and staying under his left jab. Ducking in and out, he threw his own two and three punch combinations, before clinching and resting for a few moments on Valuev’s massive chest. But Valuev has his own form of ring generalship which consists of pushing and pulling his opponent around the ring like an oversized schoolyard bully. Despite multiple warnings from referee John O’Brien, Valuev just shrugged his might shoulders and trudged back in to the fight.

Then in the eighth round, Barrett’s troubles began as he was knocked down by one of Valuev’s crushing right hands. Yet, Barrett beat the count and survived the round. In the following rounds, Barrett’s legs turned to rubber as the Russian continued to lean on him. By the time he beat the count on the second 11th round knockdown, it was clear that Barrett would not give up, despite being completely exhausted.

(oh yeah, and extra kudos to Barrett for wearing pink gloves to support cancer research...)

After the fight, Barrett expressed disappointment in his performance and said that it was perhaps his inactivity that cost him his fight. Fans did not agree. He was applauded both when he exited the ring, and as he entered the post-fight press conference. He implored Don King to find him some more action soon. And while he may have to wait for another title shot, he certainly deserves to return and he’ll have a new found fan base supporting him where ever he winds up.

Thuggin' NBA Preview - the Southeast

Today we're taking a trip down the ol' I-95 to see how the Southeast shapes up this year. And things are getting marginally more respectable down there. Marginally.

Atlanta Hawks

Poor Hawks. They finally get a decent starting point guard when they signed Speedy Claxton, but then homeslice breaks his hand. So, they're back to where they were last year. Swingmen out the ass, Lil' Tyronn running the point, Zaza holding down the middle (and maybe Lorenzen Wright will grab a board or two every now and then) and fans staying away from Philips Arena like the seats are covered with the clap. I guess Joe Johnson could make the All-Star team if the Hawks win more than eight games the first half of the season, but that's really not too likely. This franchise may be the best case for contraction in pro sports. Sorry, Kansas City Royals.

Charlotte Bobcats

Jordan's on board. As is Adam Morrison. Oh man, that'll be fun. By all accounts, though, Che Gonzaga (pretty catchy, right?) is a hard worker and a passionate dude so maybe this unlikely pairing will actually produce results. And with ballers like Raymond Felton and Gerald Wallace hanging around, this team has a somewhat bright future. Still, this year they'll lose more games than they'll win, to put it nicely, and most NBA fans will forget that Charlotte even got a team back by January or so. Shit, MJ might even forget. I know Gerald Wallace is a good shot-blocker for 6-7 or whatever, but this team is damn boring. Oh and word to Brevin Knight.

Washington Wizards

Gilbert Arenas is one wild and crazy guy!!!!! He's pumping high-altitude air into his house, he runs on the treadmill with his pit bull, he plays poker at halftime, he gets arrested in Miami, he works out at 3 am!!! Whoooo!!! What a wacky muhfucker!!!! But this team just didn't improve from last year. They got DeShawn Stevenson, but are we really supposed to care? I heard someone say once that he's a good defender. But, really all I care to know about him is that he once smaeshed some underage chicks in a gym in Fresno. Oh, and Andray Blatche got shot last year. So that's something. On the real, though, it's just a matter of time before Arenas demands a trade to the Hartford Whalers or some shit.

Orlando Magic

I like this team and I'm looking forward to watching them. They really got a solid young core in Dwight Howard (an All-Star shoe-in this year), Darko and Jameer. JJ is a good pickup because he drives drunk and he shoots the three which spreads the floor and creates room for something else to happen. Most importantly, this team seems like they'll have a fun time out there on the court together and Brian Hill looks like the kind of coach that'll crack a beer and put on soft-core porn at halftime. Seriously, though, this could be a scary group in a couple years. Next summer they'll find some free agent to take their money (what up, Vince?) and with Dwight's continuing dominance they could do big things. This year I see them sneaking into the playoffs a la the Raptors.

Miami Heat

Ummmm. Yeah. I really don't want to write about this team. All I'll say is Shaq is really on the decline of his illustrious career and once he goes, so do their title hopes. But with their swanky South Beach locale and Dwyane charming the pants off everybody, they'll be able to attract some marquee big man after Diesel takes off to track down pedophiles and open all-night gyms. So, depending on the big man's health, they could definitely repeat, (the whole squad is back) or they could kind of fade away. Either way they'll be at the top of this still-pathetic excuse for a division.

Thuggin' NBA Preview - the Atlantic
Let's check out how the NBA is shaping up for the 2K6-2K7 campaign. Worst to first, fuckers. You know how we roll.

Philadelphia 76ers

How the fuck does their GM Billy King still have a job? This team fell apart last season. AI and C-Webb do not complenent each other at this point in their respective careers. Iguodala, Korver and Dalembert will probably be nothing better than mediocre, yet they're all rich bastards whose grandkids will never have to work a day in their lives. Most importantly, these guys do not like each other. This is a fact. So, Billy King, trade some motherfuckers! Well, he didn't and this team will suck.

New York Knicks

You gotta think Isiah Thomas will at least attempt to establish a rotation this year and that should get this squad 5-10 more wins. That's the only good news I can think of. I truly believe someone will die this year because of this team. Maybe it'll be some 75-year-old janitor at the MSG, maybe it will be Nikoloz Tskitishvili. (Yes, he got a tryout with the Knicks.) Make no mistake, though, shit's gonna be wacky this year in the NYC. Just crazy. I can't even make any kind of prediction other than Stephon Marbury will somehow be worse off at the end of the season than he is right now. And the Knicks will actually be in the playoff hunt at some point in the season, much later than they should be, but only because the Eastern Conference still sucks.

Boston Celtics

This team kind of ends up here by default. I think they're a horrible squad, basically, but they're just run-of-the-mill bad. Not really historically, someone could get shivved bad like the Sixers and Knicks have the potential to be. Yes, Paul Pierce is a great baller. He can score a lot and even go for the odd triple-double if he's so inclined. Delonte West, Telfair, Rajan Rondo (?), they're all cute little guards with good brain-scans or whatever. But, come on. Al Jefferson? Whatever, Ainge. Bottom line, don't get too excited about these dudes.

Toronto Raptors

I like what's going on up in the T-Dot. Bryan Colangelo's got some good ideas. Chris Bosh basically plays like a Euro. T.J. Ford is a pure point guard and he can pass it to anybody. And everyone else on the squad is some type of foreigner or Mo Pete, Fred Jones or Joey Graham. And I like those odds. Again, this team might not really meet anyone's true qualifications for a contender or what have you. But they're better than those last three squads of degenerates. This team is on the rise. And I can see them challenging for Eastern Conference supremacy in a year or two. If Sam Mitchell, or whoever will be replacing him in a month or two, can get these dudes to throw down and commit to smack some bitches, this could really be a powerhouse down the line. This season, I see them sneaking into the playoffs.

New Jersey Nets

I'm a big Nets fan, but I'm not gonna pretend that these guys have a chance to do big things this year. At their absolute best, they'll get swept by whoever comes out of the West in the Finals. And that's really not saying much. The Heat are too dependent on a 380-pound center who's about to break down. And, well that's really it. The jury's out on the Pistons, Cavs or Bulls so if you got a squad boasting J-Kidd, RJ and Air Jerz topped off with a sprinkle of Krstic, not too many teams are really fucking with you. But, really, what's the point? Sooner or later Kidd will punch Joumana again, Vince will leave for some place sunny and warm. And we'll be stuck with RJ and Brian Scalabrine all over again. But then we'll head to Brooknam and sign King James for the 2K10 campaign.

Go Nets!

the pictures really tell the whole story...

After claiming a unanimous decision and the vacant IBA Middleweight title, it was hard to tell which was the wider- the cuts above John Duddy’s brow or his smile. In a gutsy display, Duddy surpassed his toughest challenge to date in former world champion Yory Boy Campas, and the lad from County Derry, Ireland seemed as jubilant about the spirited war he had thrived in as the victory he claimed. "It was the toughest performance of my career and I thoroughly enjoyed it," said Duddy (18-0, 15). "It was a great experience. I can't get over that I was fighting Yury Boy Campas. I'm just glad to have stood in front of him and fought."

There has never been a doubt about Duddy’s punching power, one need look no further than his copious knockouts, and now it is clear that he has an iron will to match his fists. Despite bleeding above both of his eyes, and a Campas left hook that buckled his knees in the second round, Duddy kept his composure and boxed the fight of his career, and possibly the best of the year. 'I knew I was getting into a fight long before I stepped into the ring," he added. "Yury Boy's experience is second to none. He didn't hurt me bad, but he let me know he was there, where he came from, and he let me know he was there to fight.

As his cutman, George Mitchell, worked furiously between rounds the young fighter never lost his composure. The first half of the 12 round contest was a seesaw battle. Campas entered the ring with a wealth of experience built upon his own speed and power, and seemed intent on disappointing Duddy’s loyal hometown contingent. But Duddy surmounted Campas’ continuous onslaughts, managing to ratchet up his own rallies behind the roars of the crowd. By the eighth round, he had turned the tide behind stiff accurate jabs, followed closely by a viscous right hand.

Still, even though his skills carried him through the night it was Duddy’s conditioning that was his greatest advantage. Heading into the final round, Duddy rose from his stool and hoisted his arms aloft before charging in at Campas. "I felt I had to suck it up," he said. But by the close of the round, Campas had again gained the advantage and appeared to have Duddy hurt and was looking for the knockout. Yet Duddy refused to slow the pace of the fight with any holding. "That's the Irish in him. That's the warrior in him," said trainer Harry Keitt. "John showed me how much he wants to be a champion today."

oh it's fight night...
Yes, it's that time again kiddies, and there is no better sport than boxing to allow a little loose generalizing and labeling to go down...

"Irish" John Duddy (17-0, 15KOs) returns to the Theater at MSG (whaddup NYU CAS alum?) to face former champion "Yury Boy" Campas (88-8, 72KOs). For more in depth pre-fight coverage (and in general the best boxing coverage and most clever writing) please go HERE . Of course, my distaste for shameless self promotion prevents me from sending you here as well

but I digress because tonight's bought (the main event being between an Irishman and a Mexican) is of coursed being billed as...

Yup, Shamrocks and Sombreros. I don't know it just doesn't resonate with me. Couldn't they come up with something like

Potatoes vs Tortillas (has a better ring doesn't it?)

or what about the ulitimate contest in uncontrolled violence,

vs

ugg, my stomach hurts just thinking about it.

But to be honest, I gotta go with my boy Duddy. He's younger, stronger, and doesn't take his alcohol with no sissy piece of citrus fruit. Duddy wins by KO in the 9th.

And while, Duddy throws some nasty hooks to the head, I have to admit I hoping to see a few of those cringe inducing body shots to kind of slow Campas down and shift is insides around a bit.

And for those of you who think the sport is too brutal, or are animal lovers, then this should make you feel a whole hell of a lot better

The IFL asks, "can you feel it (bitches)?"

So I don’t know if any of yous have been following the progression of MMA (mixed martial arts aka UFC aka no holds barred aka street fighting aka ohmygod I think that guy just lost an eye) but this shit is blowing up and for good reason.

First of all it’s a hell of a lot less corrupt than boxing. I mean hey, it’s still judged subjectively so you’re always gonna get some home town decisions (aka Marcio Feitosa’s bullshit loss to Bart Palaszweski this weekend in Moline, IL). Yet at least these fighters are a) getting a salary, plus performance incentives b) health insurance and c) former fighters are being brought in as coaches so that they are repeatedly getting their heads knocked in and later suffering from pugilistic dementia without a dollar to their name (like so many boxers, too proliferate to name).

Miletich

Renzo

Anyways, so I made the bullheaded decision to drive to and from Moline in a single weekend just to see my main man and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu master Renzo Gracie take on Pat Miletich (of the Miletich Fighting System, which has groomed such stars as Matt Hughes and Tim 'the maine-iac Sylvia).

After all, I had just come into ownership of my first automobile ever (hence forth referred to affectionately as my “Viking long ship”) and I am still suffering from the invincible delusions of grandeur, also known as the confidence of youth (yeah that’s right I identify with that pasty lookin’ mother f’er, what about it?)

And despite stomach aches and anxiety that coffee and redbull inevitably bring to an empty stomach and severely sleep deprived brain (36 plus hours, what you got?) the fight was worth it all.

The whole Middle America crowd was there to see their hometown hero, Miletich, womp up on this scrappy lesser known Gracie. After all Miletich has a much stronger record, and he’s known for knocking mo’fos out… as in “Dee’Bo you got knock the fuck out.” But even Miletich, a consummate professional was smarter than to make predictions during his warm-up. “Anything can happen in this sport,” he told me a few hours before the fight.

Anything indeed.

At the sound of the bell, the fighters felt each other out with some errant jabs and low kicks. Then Renzo, the ever crafty fighter that he is, lured Miletich in and set upon him with a vice like guillotine choke hold around his neck and anchored by his legs around the other man’s waist. Suddenly the crowd fell silent, and as Miletich bent over it seemed merely a matter of time. Renzo settled in, tightening his grip, and just waited for the tap.

Then it came, and that’s when the real pandemonium started. In a matter of seconds, Renzo’s Brazilian crew from his gym, who he uncharacteristically was not accompanied by in his walk earlier to the ring, stormed their teacher and hero hoisting him up on their shoulders, chanting, celebrating, and in general giving a big FU to the dejected fans.

I squeezed up to the ring and was able to grab Renzo for a few brief words, and he imparted this nugget upon me. “Let me tell you something my friend, there are two great pleasures in life. One, pleasing your friends and family. Two, unpleasing everyone else. Porra.”

call me milky one more time. pale is beautiful, bitches

teen angst mixed with a little zombie ass action

Charles Burns’ Black Hole is the type of graphic novel that needs the proper exposure to bring more acclaim to this dynamic medium. His story of high school alienation and the lurking fear of ‘others’ combines the humor of Richard Linklater’s Dazed and Confused with the dread and gore of the early EC Horror Comics . Burns has an ear for the dialogue of his characters and the era, and his vivid black and white illustrations seamlessly blend the surreal into his tale.

Set in the pacific-northwest in the 1970s, Burns explores the social strata of a group of local high school students. In between the beers, after-school jobs, joints and peer pressure, Burns describes a harmless, but no less deforming trait, cycling through the areas youth known only as ‘the bug.’ Contracted through sexual contact it transforms its victims. While some may hide the reptile ridges that appear on their hands, others have more trouble hiding a morphed face or newly grown tail. What begins as a simple story of cliques that is recognizable to almost anyone who has suffered through adolescence, slowly diverges into darker territory as the bug plays on characters’ stronger and less rational emotions, mainly love and fear.

The story begins with a pair of acquaintances Keith and Chris who share a lab desk in science class. While Keith secretly yearns for Chris, their separate experiences with the bug will draw them apart before their paths converge briefly in their own journey of self-discovery. Chris’ feelings of doubt and misgivings with her peers are only amplified when she meets and falls for Rob, a charismatic student who hides his mark of the bug well. “God, I’m a monster,” she says to herself alone in the school bathroom between periods. Keith, on the other hand, is drawn to Eliza’s overt sexuality and she slowly woes him into her world, and away from his friends who are content to exchange insults and false tales of bravado. But neither, Chris nor Keith can recede peacefully into love, rather their pulled into the tangled web of deceit and cruelty that everyone knows about, but is too scared to address.

“Why does this shit happen to me?” Keith asks himself at one point, feeling his simple life spinning out of control. Burns is able to capture the feelings of loneliness, while simultaneously drawing his characters down a spiraling path of suspense and murder. With his distinct detail, Burns also avoids clichés and slowly wraps up his story with each languid chapter. With the same eye-for-detail he illustrates the package of rolling papers and Rob’s panic stricken acid trip. He transitions between hopes, nightmares and reality so well, that it almost becomes moot what is really happening to his characters because the psychological consequences are all too real. But what remains, Burns’ best strength is his simple refusal to sum up his story with neat explanations or happy endings. He never delves into the origin of the bug and rarely includes adults into this story. Rather he draws the audience into his own world, giving them just enough to believe his fantastic story. By the final pages, he has created a dark and tripped out yearbook that traces the lives of his characters. While clearly not looking for any solutions, he captures those moments that can still makes us squirm, and at times shiver and shriek.