Welcome back to The Bootleg, umm…me writing something. So, have I ever told y’all how me and the wife actually met? It was in November of 1995…my first year at San Diego State University. Call it “eyes meeting across a crowded computer lab”.

While I’d like to say that music has been the tie that’s bound our love, that wouldn’t be even remotely true. To say we walk in different sonic circles would be something of an understatement. Still, over the years, we’ve found our share of common ground.

We were driving together when we heard that Tupac died…and somehow we kept the car on the road. A few years later, I successfully hunted down an import copy of the I Got 5 On It single from The Luniz, which featured an ultra-rare remix that the wife had to have as a birthday gift. For those counting at home, the CD featured five versions of the song…all for only $36 after shipping & handling.

And, most infamously, Mrs. Bootleg wanted a certain song during the dance floor portion of our wedding reception. The single in question had made its way to radio, but had yet to be released commercially. Long story short…we got the song for the reception, but, unknowingly, it turned out to be what they call in Hip Hop…the “dirty” version. Thank God my Grampy John had retired to his hotel room.

Despite our occasional audio disconnects, when this feature was being discussed behind the scenes, I went right to the wife. She immediately rattled off a half dozen love cuts that could qualify, so I knew I had the perfect foil. And, just like everything else we’ve ever done that starts off as a 50/50 split of our commitment…she took over.

My attempts to play this up as Bootleg-brand bad comedy (All-4-One’s I Swear, anyone?) were quickly kiboshed by Mrs. B. She even made a preemptive “no Nate Dogg” edict.

Divorce proceedings are pending. Enjoy!

Love Ballad, L.T.D. (1976)

This was the first track that Mrs. Bootleg insisted be included and it’s hard to argue. Thirty years after it first dropped, the song is still the essence of Love, Togetherness & Devotion. Um, that would be both the adjectives and the acronym. Still, if there’s an ethnically creepier album cover than this one, I don’t wanna see it. It’s like the shower scenes of Oz meeting the Romper Room Magic Mirror.

‘Cause I Love You, Lenny Williams (1978)

A seven minute love song? I’m pretty sure in all recorded history only “every Boyz II Men video ever made” had to beg the ladies longer. Lenny’s style was almost entirely stolen by former Death Row Records recording artist Danny Boy. On the plus side, the two of them can compare notes during their next closing shift together at Hot Dog on a Stick.

You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine, Lou Rawls (1976)

Wait…which one was the Black singer who got hit by a car? Oh, that was Ben Vereen. If memory serves, he once danced with Webster. Mr. Rawls is affiliated with the United Negro College Fund, which, by my count, is one of the last three remaining public uses of the word “negro”.

Me & Mrs. Jones, Billy Paul (1972)

What would a love mix be without a song or two about infidelity? Should I be worried that the wife so eagerly nominated this one or more worried that in all the times I’ve heard this cut, I never knew who sang it? The 10th Commandment has nothing on a really good song about cheatin’. Unless that song is TLC’s Creep, but that’s another feature.

A House is Not a Home, Luther Vandross (1981)

Originally written by Burt Bacharach and first performed by Dionne Warwick in the ’60s, it’s hard to believe that this one wasn’t even released as a single on Luther’s debut album. The concept of the cut was given a twist on Tupac’s posthumous outtake Happy Home. What? Hey, if I don’t use up these obscure surplus Shakur references, how will we ever remember him? You’re welcome.

I Will Always Love You, Whitney Houston (1992)

This one set a personal record for me, in the category of “hit single from a movie soundtrack that I know most of the words to, yet I’ve never seen the movie it’s from”. Anyone else think that Dolly Parton could just live off the residuals for the rest of her life? Maybe, she can finally bankroll that sequel to 9 to 5 that we’ve all been waiting for. Boy, I sure hope Lily Tomlin, Jane Fonda and Dabney Coleman can clear their calendars.

Lovin’ You, Minnie Riperton (1974)

Well, hell…I can’t, in good conscience, mock too much here since the artist died of breast cancer at the age of 31. However, I can direct the few of you who have never heard this classic song to Eddie Murphy’s Nutty Professor movie, where he spoofs it in a pretty funny scene. And, yes, that is the first instance of “Eddie Murphy” and “classic song” being used so close to each other. Let us Party All the Time in celebration.

Too Much, Too Little, Too Late, Johnny Mathis & Deniece Williams (1978)

Ah, sweet “Niecey”. I confess to having a soft spot for her on the basis of her 1975 single Free which has been sampled by about 100 different rappers. Of course, my favorites among these is Eastside LB by The Twinz and You Can’t F*ck With Queen Bee by Lil’ Kim. Hope those royalty checks were worth it, Ms. Williams.

Ribbon in the Sky, Stevie Wonder (1982)

After Mrs. Bootleg completed her love mix “first draft” (don’t ask), I noted that she might’ve forgotten the most important love song of them all. I know this bit of hyperbole to be true, because years and years before we got married, the wife informed me that this would be “our song” during the “first dance” segment of the eventual open bar n’ free feedbag known as our wedding reception. At least she put more thought into that than I did into the “mother-son” dance song (A Song for Mama, Boyz II Men). We had 120 guests, and 119 of them would’ve bet the farm that I was going with Dear Mama by what’s-his-name.

The Closer I Get To You, Donny Hathaway & Roberta Flack (1977)

This was another obvious choice, but not for the reasons you might think. Sure, this duet was arguably Hathaway’s biggest hit and a wonderful remembrance of a man who died at 33 (his death was ruled a suicide). But, I’ll remember Hathaway as the man who wrote the theme song for Maude. What’s not to love about a man associated with the television breakthrough of a young Bea Arthur and a cast that included the actors who would become “Mr. Drummond” and “Blanche Deveraux”?

Cheek to Cheek, Louis Armstrong & Ella Fitzgerald (1891?)

I imagine this was the 19th century’s version of Ja Rule and Ashanti. And, I can’t be the only one who would pay top dollar to bring Satchmo back in modern times just to hear him steal Ja’s “It’s Mur-DAH” catchphrase. OK, OK…this album was first released in 1956 and is considered a classic in any era. Still, I can’t get past the album cover. If you squint, it almost looks like Raj from What’s Happening is sitting next to a life-size bottle of Mrs. Buttersworth.

The wife came up with dozens of other songs from hundreds of years ago. Let’s share on Yahoo or AOL IM: ajcameron13.

“Hey, kids, welcome to the debut of The Bootleg. I’ll do my best to cover all genres as fairly and as accurately as possible. I’ll mix in a little commentary, too, but I’ll try to keep it balanced by taking shots at everyone. I’m still working on the format for this column, so bear with me.”

-Aaron Cameron, February 14, 2003…

Welcome back to The Bootleg. So, after three years…around 150 columns…and more than “a little commentary”, can I ask y’all to bear with me one last time?

Week in and week out, my most favorite thing about The Bootleg were these nonsensical, non-music intros that served simply as a self-deprecating window to my world. And, while I sincerely appreciated any feedback that The Bootleg brought in, nothing brought me more pleasure than when one of you wrote to tell me you could relate to something in my column.

This is the last Friday Music News Bootleg. When the first one ran, I’d been married for three months. This past November, we celebrated three years. And, from my wife’s pregnancy to two years of fatherhood, you guys have let me share everything with you.

These intros have told tales of bad days at work and worse nights in bars. There have been wacky anecdotes detailing cross-country business trips or what I might’ve had for breakfast. Hell, time and space permitting, we even made room for some music news.

Somehow…someway, this conceptual car wreck worked.

So, I say “thank you” to everyone who ever gave me a few minutes of their Fridays. And, “thank you” to anyone who ever took the time to e-mail or IM their thoughts, opinions or (my favorite) their own obscure references. “Thank you” for all the first-time feedback I’ve received over the last six weeks, which has included some of the nicest, coolest and most complimentary comments that a hack like me could ever hope to read.

Thank you for allowing me to let this six-minute skit run for 36 months.

Oh, and before I forget…to this day, there remains a behind-the-scenes segment who insist that personal blogs and music columns just don’t mix. They say that no one gives a sh*t about my kid, my wife or anything else about my life.

So, to them, The Goodness would like to say f*ck you…actually, I’d like to say thanks to them, too. Y’all have been wrong for three long years and that fact alone is funnier to me than anything I could ever write.

And, besides…my readers can kick your readers’ collective ass.

Segway! (sic) Now, I really don’t want this column to turn into one of those schmaltzy over-sentimental sendoffs, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank m’man Nick Salemi for everything he’s done for The Bootleg, too. If you’ve ever laughed out loud at something in this space, chances are I stole it from him. He’s a great writer, a good friend to the entire Bootleg Family (even the wife!) and the funniest man I’ve ever met. (Cue up 50 Cent on the intro of Patiently Waiting)…

The MFWNTAK started as a lazy fill-in column for my usual routine. One and done, I figured, then back to the Bootleg beat the following week. Those inaugural inductees pulled in more feedback than any other Bootleg feature and prompted a follow-up column the next week which…well, let’s just say it’s held up well.

Since then, it’s come back from time-to-time, whenever annoyance and ignorance have intersected with the rich and the famous. So, me and Nick nominated one last batch of bastards who fit the description of Muthaf*ckas Who Need They Ass Kicked…

Flavor Flav (Again!)

Aaron: We’ve kicked his ass once before, but it obviously didn’t take. His Flavor of Love reality show is eradicating all of the gains that dark-skinned bruthas like Samkon Gado and Emeka Okafor have made in the last few…well, since last month.
Nick: Alright, so we already clowned his ass a while back but, SOMEHOW he milked the Surreal Life into his own ghetto Bachelor show, thus extending his month to month lease on life. Maybe it was a 2 year service plan with a $175 deactivation fee. Whatever the case, what can the “contestants” possibly say during their intros…”Flav’s 15 kids, crack habit and the fact that he lives on the 1 and 9 subway train were a little intimidating. But he WAS the hype man for an important group in hip hop history, so I’ll give him a chance.” Cant Truss It. No no no no.

The Grammy Awards

Aaron: Rick Moranis was nominated for a Grammy? I don’t care if the category was “comedy” album, it’s still…wait a minute. Rick Moranis and “comedy” in the same sentence? Did none of you see The Flintstones? Of course, you didn’t.
Nick: Wow, U2, Mariah Carey and Kelly Clarkson were winners. That’s huge for them. I predict winning those awards will give them the exposure they need to rocket into superstardom. Couldn’t they have found a way to give Will Smith an award too? He’s SO ENTERTAINING! Music AND movies!

FTD

Aaron: So, I ordered from their website a few times and now I’m “reminded” of every upcoming holiday, real or fake, via their mailing list. If I order before Valentine’s Day, I can send a half-dozen roses to Mrs. Bootleg for only $499.
Nick: Neglecting your girl? What better way to make her feel special than to have dead plants delivered to her while she’s working. It only seems like you’re just clicking your mouse to send $70 worth of flowers. They actually charge you, too. Bastards. Although the extra $20 in “service” fees probably is worth avoiding the awkward trip to the florist.

Rachael Ray

Aaron: Annoyingly energetic, this 30-minute meal mule obviously ain’t got no job or no kids, so she actually has time to cook. And, I dare anyone to find another woman with a greater mosquito bite boob-to-gigantic ass ratio than her.
Nick: What, you’ve never watched the Food network? 30-minute meals! If you’ve ever had the hankering for a 16-inch thick Monte Cristo sandwich at 12AM, Rachael’s your girl. Just watching her do an inadvertent Buddy the Elf impression by pouring syrup over the entire sandwich is a sight to behold. Speaking of thick, if she’s wearing black there’s more junk in the trunk than butter in her dishes, and believe me that’s a lot. YUM-O!

The Rock

Aaron: Here’s a thought, The Rock…maybe moviegoers would take you seriously if your first name wasn’t an article. I’m not saying he’s overrated as an actor, but when you’re upstaged by the boy who played “Stifler”… Is there anyone outside the IWC who thinks he’ll be acting outside of a ring in five years?
Nick: It pains me to list one of the greatest performers of all time here but let’s face it, he’s running out of video games to adapt to movies. If I see “This summer the Rock as Sonic the Hedgehog in Fatal Destiny” I’m going to Rock Bottom myself through a table. How many chances do you get to make a decent movie? Pauly Shore received five and now he gets free room and board in exchange for disinfecting the grotto every morning at Hef’s mansion. So, there’s always hope.

Rolling Stone Magazine

Aaron: OK, so they’re actually the “well-known publication” I referenced a few weeks back that “didn’t work out” on the job front. Bitter? Nah… Besides, by the time it hits newsstands, everything in it is from eight months ago. Kind of like every other Bill Simmons column.
Nick: Hey it’s 2006, how about another cover featuring Bob Dylan, the Beatles, Jim Morrison, Neil Young and anyone else they mistakenly dictate as relevant to the current music audience. We get it, the 60s rocked. It’s time to move on. Who edits that rag, my dad? And why does it seem like is printed on used circuit city fliers? Maybe I’ll sign up for a subscription to Circus and Hit Parader instead.

Scoop Jackson

Aaron: Did he really say that ESPN’s Quite Frankly with Stephen A. Smith was one of the defining sports and societal events of 2005? Hell, at least the late Ralph Wiley could slump against the streetlamp of senility. Any brutha named after a 1930’s cub reporter deserves a beatdown.
Nick: I’m not touching this. The last ESPN writer we deemed that needed they ass kicked…uh, died. So, well let’s not get into it.

Ok…John Clayton! John Clayton! John Clayton!

Janice Dickinson

Aaron: Old…thinks she’s still attractive…how come she’s not on Desperate Housewives? Her ongoing feud with Omarosa in The Surreal Life somehow turned an out-of-work and unwashed Bronson Pinchot into a sympathetic figure. Queen of the Harpies, this one is. Here’s your crown, your majesty!
Nick: Father time has dealt her most of the ass kicking anyway…a constant BAC of .3 and enough cocaine in her system to make Sosa cringe, probably provided a violent shove into her looking like a demon as well. She claims to be the “first supermodel”. I think Studio 54 ran their electricity through her nostrils. Hey models, pay attention this can be you too one day. Pick up her book where she describes her lifelong struggle of achieving perfection (honest). That’s of course if you think perfection getting turned out by everyone in the 80s.

Bill Maher

Aaron: New rule…when you get to be 50 and you’re dating African-American strippers/video hoes, it’s time for an intervention. And, seriously, how about some variety with those guests on his show? Can’t we just give Arianna Huffington the perennial center square like Bruce Villanch, since she’s always inexplicably available?
Nick: Is it politically incorrect to have no discernable fan base and have a show for that long? Sadly, the previously mentioned Pauly Shore is stuck cleaning up after him and Rob Schneider at the mansion. Yuck.

Black Eyed Peas

Aaron: Outkast, The Roots, A Tribe Called Quest…I get it, already. White folk love these guys, thereby making them “eclectic” or “eccentric” or “electric” or something. How a group that dropped My Humps is untouchable by the music media at large is beyond me.
Nick: Maybe they don’t need their asses kicked as much as “Brandon” who works in the music department at Best Buy who insists in filing their CD in the hip-hop/rap section. It’s the rap version of No Doubt…hey, we’re in the hot chick’s group.

Theo Epstein

Aaron: For those of you who don’t follow baseball, Epstein quit as Red Sox boy wonder GM around Halloween ‘05. Then, he was rehired a few months later. This was considered “news” on ESPN, throughout New England and pretty much no place else on earth. Not convinced he deserves an ass-kickin’? He’s also in his 30s and dabbles in an indie band.
Nick: The boy genius is gone, he’s back, everything is right again. Is the Sox nation maybe a little TOO close with their on again off again GM? It’s getting creepy guys, give it a rest. I hear Peter Gammons made him move to the bottom bunk.

eBay mixtapes

Nick: Attention DJ I Live with My Mom AKA “Mixtapekilla35″ if you’re going to rip me off can you not send me a CD R with a smudged inkjet scanned copy of the cover and a track listing typed in Word on the other side of it. Just keep the f*cking disc with the money. There’s more dignity in that.

Gymnastic Dunkers

Nick: Lower life form – male cheerleaders or these guys? It’s actually a hybrid of gymnastics and male cheerleaders, neither of which is a sport. So why do I have to watch this at the halftime of basketball games? I’ll take the jackass on the unicycle juggling over guys jumping on trampolines and giving each other uncomfortable high fives and group hugs.

Lost Conspiracy Theorists

Aaron: How hard is it to just watch the damn show, people? “Hey, Hurley took 42 steps before his back-fat collapsed on itself! See, it’s another clue!” I loves me some Lost, but there’s no way the real answers can ever live up to the hype. And, I’ll give you three guesses who’ll be the fickle first few on the internet within minutes, registering their disgust throughout the world.

Dave Chappelle

Aaron: No more passes, Dave. I saw you on Oprah and from the looks of it…hell, you were in Half-Baked, I think you know where I’m going with this. So, you want half of Chappelle’s Show DVD money to go to Hurricane Katrina victims and then you’ll consider coming back to your own damn show? Good to see Comedy Central moving ahead with the three episode third season of your show. That should just about piss away the last bit of goodwill and fan following that it took you two days and a catchphrase to build up in the first place.

Nick’a Please
conceptualized by Nick Salemi

Bootleg RIP?

In closing of the final (sob) Bootleg I just wanted to thank Aaron for letting me bring you my thoughts in Nicka Please for the past few years on a semi-regular basis. Whether reviewing CDs or straight clownin like MFWNTAK, I just tried to have fun and not take myself too seriously. AJC is a funny dude and I always looked forward to Fridays to see how he dealt with the week’s absurdities. Where will the weekly dose come from? I have a feeling you haven’t heard the last from him. Maybe I’ll pop up somewhere too. Until then…As Nate said…

How long will they mourn me
I wish it could have been another
How long will they mourn my brother……..?

Have you heard that this is the last Bootleg? Well, before we turn off all the lights (save for the one in the upstairs bathroom that white folk think will deter burglars from breaking in, because “someone must be home”) it’s time to get rid of the excess running joke references that I’ve accumulated along the way.

And, who else to help me divvy up all of this obscure Bootleg booty, than Movie Joe Reid? Or, as Mrs. Bootleg refers to him when it’s 11:30 PM and I’m still on IM with him,

“Wait, he’s the one that’s not Nick, right?”

Joe is the best writer that I ever shared space with on either 411 or Inside Pulse. Ironically enough, he was arguably unappreciated at the former, while his services (or, more specifically, his “news style”) were outright rejected with the latter.

These days there are people smart enough to pay him for his boundless talent, but it took someone even smarter to get him to work in this column for free!

Still, whenever we tag teamed for one of our collabos, I felt like the “Mr. Plow” to his “Plow King”. Sure, I may have the cool jacket…but, he’s got Linda Ronstadt.

So, if you were into our 1989 New York Yankees casting call…or were among the one who was offended by our 411/IP Draft…or if you had no idea how to tell Regina Hall and Regina King apart, prior to Black Actress Survivor…then, I’m sure you’ll enjoy:

Joe Movies: So, are you up for the big draft tonight, then?
That Bootleg Guy: Let’s do this thang…

That Bootleg Guy: I just needs me some ground rules…
That Bootleg Guy: However…
That Bootleg Guy: We need to address The Simpsons up front, in some manner…

Joe Movies: Okay, ground rules as to that: The Simpsons, The Critic, Oz, and NBC sitcoms from the 1980s cannot be taken as whole entities. They have to be taken bit by bit (a character here, a storyline there)…
That Bootleg Guy: Interesting, interesting…however to preclude all our picks being references to Oz, for example, we should limit it to no more than one apiece or one for the both of us to fight over?
Joe Movies: I am consciously limiting myself in that regard, just so you know…

Joe Movies: How many picks apiece?
That Bootleg Guy: How’s ’bout 10…it worked well for the 411/IP Draft and comes to 20 total for the two of us?

Joe Movies: Home field advantage, dude. You first.
That Bootleg Guy: inhale
That Bootleg Guy: OK…got it.
Joe Movies: Serve it up.

That Bootleg Guy: In a mild surprise, I’m calling “Oz and the craphole that was their sixth and final season.”
That Bootleg Guy: …if only for the “This wasn’t as bad as….” reference possibilities.
Joe Movies: Yeah, it’s pretty all-purpose.
Joe Movies: You of course leave the Oz “aging pills” storyline debacle wide open.
That Bootleg Guy: Plus, I get ALL the in-season subplots like the anthrax, the nonsensical deaths of Minister Said, Warden Glynn…etc.
Joe Movies: You do get the GQ photo shoot, though…
That Bootleg Guy: …and closure on where Luke Perry was hiding all those months.
Joe Movies: Where his career had been hiding, at least.

Joe Movies: Okay, me?
Joe Movies: I think of this as more of a favor to you than anything else. Kimberly Jones.
Joe Movies: aka
Joe Movies: Lil Kim.

That Bootleg Guy: GODDAMMIT
That Bootleg Guy: This is not happening…this is NOT happening…

Joe Movies: Think of this as a liberation.
Joe Movies: You’re finally free! Kim’s got no hold on you anymore.
Joe Movies: You finally know how to quit her!
Joe Movies: Now, it makes me have to think of synonyms for “zaftig.”

That Bootleg Guy: But, there’ll be cameras there when she’s released from prison…it won’t be the same without my snarky over-played commentary on her physical appearance…
That Bootleg Guy: Arrgh…I feel like I just drafted Sam Bowie
Joe Movies: Yeah, season six probably would’ve fell a few spots.
That Bootleg Guy: Fine. I’ll get thru this. But, with a heavy heart…not as heavy as Lil’…ah, damn it!
Joe Movies: Sorry, that’ll cost ya now.

That Bootleg Guy: ‘K…my second-round pick…
That Bootleg Guy: I’m calling ALL of the light-skinned Cosby Show Kids INCLUDING Sondra’s permed-out husband, Elvin, and Raven-Symone who, these days, is built like a young D-Lo Brown.
That Bootleg Guy: Theo, Rudy and Vanessa are still available…
Joe Movies: I don’t even know what to do with that.

Joe Movies: Wait, are you taking all of Denise’s braids from the just-back-from-Africa era, too?
That Bootleg Guy: Yes…and her bizarre brightly colored and flowing kung-fu like attire from the time
Joe Movies: I think MC Hammer lived INSIDE her pant leg for a time.

Joe Movies: Okay, so me.
Joe Movies: With my second pick, I am selecting …
Joe Movies: Arnold and Dudley getting almost-molested by the Maytag repairman.
That Bootleg Guy: GODDAMMIT
That Bootleg Guy: (again)
That Bootleg Guy: And what’s with this run on all-black references?
That Bootleg Guy: I mean, I know it’s February, but still…

Joe Movies: Again, maybe now you can find new ways to talk about the pain of childhood sexual abuse.
That Bootleg Guy: Well, it’s not like I can select “every episode of Law & Order: SVU ever made”.
That Bootleg Guy: (the non-Ice T years, of course)

That Bootleg Guy: Alright…I’ve got my #3 pick…
That Bootleg Guy: …and in the spirit of the just-completed Super Bowl, I call all future references to Janet Jackson’s veiny, naked boobie. (NWS!)
Joe Movies: Does eminent domain cover the rest of her rapidly expanding frame? Or is that too much to ask of eminent domain?

Joe Movies: Okay, so I am probably reaching here, but I’m gonna go with Sarah Jessica Horseface as my #3.
That Bootleg Guy: I’m told Sarah comes with all juxtaposed imagery of her and TV’s Quick Draw McGraw, too…
Joe Movies: Yes. And, also Lisa Leslie.

That Bootleg Guy: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand, speaking of Lisa…at #4, I call:
That Bootleg Guy: The Women of Saved By The Bell!
Joe Movies: Ooh!
That Bootleg Guy: Including the rights to Leah Remini’s “Stacey Carosi”…
Joe Movies: Between the Cosby Caucasians and this pick, you are swimmin’ in women.
That Bootleg Guy: Not sure if this comes with the rights to the Jessie Spano “addicted to speed” storyline, though…
Joe Movies: It’s not worth picking if it doesn’t.
Joe Movies: It also comes with Lisa Turtle’s shoulder pads.
Joe Movies: Which I believe Slater used in a pinch for a football game in one episode.

That Bootleg Guy: Oddly enough, I’ve never mocked the ONE episode where Zack and Lisa share a forbidden kiss…
Joe Movies: That was the weirdest, most out of nowhere plot twist ever.
That Bootleg Guy: I think Mathan’s head might explode if I ever explored that one
Joe Movies: Ha!
That Bootleg Guy: Oh, and I also get Tori’s combat boots
That Bootleg Guy: Man, good thing they (sic) my size…

Joe Movies: With my fourth pick, I am gonna hit you where you live.
Joe Movies: “Besos”
That Bootleg Guy: !!!
Joe Movies: I don’t think I have to say much more than that.
Joe Movies: So, you’re just gonna have to find another way to stick it to the former employer.

That Bootleg Guy: ‘K, I’m taking a relative rookie with my #5:
That Bootleg Guy: “Heather Mills McCartney’s prosthetic leg and insufferable sense of self-worth”.
That Bootleg Guy: …package deal.
Joe Movies: F*CK!!
Joe Movies: I was so close to taking her with the last pick
That Bootleg Guy: I’m taking her mostly because I’m so mad at taking so long to discover this veritable gold mine of comedy.
That Bootleg Guy: Besides, I really want a window seat on my way to hell and that should pretty much seal the deal.

Joe Movies: All right. Before you jump right in and steal this one from me, too …
Joe Movies: Wesley Snipes in Too Wong Foo
Joe Movies: So, start finding someone else to compare Angela Bassett to.

That Bootleg Guy: Well, if memory serves, you were the first to draw those comic book comparisons between Angela & She-Hulk
Joe Movies: Angela mad!
Joe Movies: Angela SMASH!

That Bootleg Guy: Actually, I should be thanking you for taking Wong Foo Wesley, as he’s the second ugliest man-as-a-woman image in entertainment history…
That Bootleg Guy: Fortunately, my #6 is still number one on that list…
That Bootleg Guy: Fantasia Barrino, American Idol
Joe Movies: Damn you!
Joe Movies: That’s two in a row, ass.

That Bootleg Guy: Jughead mine…Jughead MINE!
That Bootleg Guy: Thought for sure you were gonna take her at #5…
Joe Movies: I should have.
Joe Movies: Snipes would have been around later.

Joe Movies: Okay, my #6 …
Joe Movies: “Comparing Macy Gray to Dennis Johnson“
Joe Movies: You haven’t done it in forever, so maybe you won’t miss it.
Joe Movies: It’s so perfect.
That Bootleg Guy: Right down to their matching orange afros…

That Bootleg Guy: Then, I’ve gotta match your sleeper with one of my own, for my #7 pick:
That Bootleg Guy: “Halle Berry’s son/buffalo in Monster’s Ball“
Joe Movies: That’s a good pick.
That Bootleg Guy: Haven’t used it in forever, but 300-pound 10 year olds should not go unmocked…
That Bootleg Guy: The scene where she beats him after he hides the candy was hee-larious…
That Bootleg Guy: Like she was hitting an Escalade…

Joe Movies: Okay, my #7? Right?
Joe Movies: I will choose a reference not made all that often, but worth its weight in gold … Red Sonja
That Bootleg Guy: Outstanding!
That Bootleg Guy: And, it’s ’80s, too!
Joe Movies: And, you Love the 80s!

That Bootleg Guy: Now that’s what I call segue…right into my #8 selection:
That Bootleg Guy: The Golden Girls.
Joe Movies: Good call!
Joe Movies: You can still bitch about Sexy Blanche Deveraux
That Bootleg Guy: …and still be afraid of Big Bea Arthur
Joe Movies: Dorothy Mad!
Joe Movies: Dorothy Smash!

Joe Movies: Okay, mine …
Joe Movies: It’s an obscure one, but I’m taking “Mrs. Pommelhorse”
That Bootleg Guy: I had that as my #2 Simpsons reference in case you lifted my #1…
Joe Movies: It’s such a handy reference.
Joe Movies: Any time you’re figuratively left hanging…

That Bootleg Guy: Well, I probably should thank you for your continued serving of follow-up draft picks…
That Bootleg Guy: For my #9 pick, I, too, am taking a Simpsons reference…
That Bootleg Guy: An all-time Joe Reid favorite…
That Bootleg Guy: Where can you find it…?
That Bootleg Guy: “IT’S IN REVELATIONS, PEOPLE!”

Joe Movies: Niiiiice…
That Bootleg Guy: It comes with the Kent Brockman/cuckoo technical difficulties slide, too…
Joe Movies: Oh, that is a STEAL then.
Joe Movies: That’s another all-purpose one. Great for awkward pauses.
That Bootleg Guy: Plus, it gives me one last eternal dig at Mitch Michaels…
Joe Movies: Which is necessary.
Joe Movies: Even if he has dissolved into tiny Christian particles by now.
That Bootleg Guy: Careful…not unlike Robert Patrick in T2, he’ll just gel back together…

Joe Movies: With my number nine, I’m taking the sullen, silent S. Epatha Merkerson. Who, by the way, if you put a dress on her and give her a trophy? Silent no more!

That Bootleg Guy: Gotta go out with a bang, then with my #10…
That Bootleg Guy: This selection might be fodder for a future Moodspins column, but f*ck it…
That Bootleg Guy: I call Mathan.
Joe Movies: WOW
Joe Movies: So, you now own … you’ve just acquired … I cannot finish any of these sentences!

Joe Movies: I feel horrible. Like I should go and direct Mississippi Burning or something to atone.
That Bootleg Guy: You think he’ll be more pissed that he was “selected” or that he was selected 10th?
Joe Movies: It’s a MASSIVE INSULT either way.
Joe Movies: Ask him yourself.
Joe Movies: “Listen, Mathan. You’re gonna hear a lot of wild rumors …”
That Bootleg Guy: “Don’t worry Math…I’ll let you live in the house.”

Joe Movies: Okay, before I pick my #10, may I just present a few that will be missing the cut?
That Bootleg Guy: Gots to…
Joe Movies: Okay, so I am sacrificing the following: El Pollo Loco, Keisha Knight Pulliam, Jiggy Walker, the “mammy” incident, Nick Salemi, Steve Coogan, and the seminal sitcom Out All Night.

That Bootleg Guy: Whilst I came this close to cornering the Cosby market with “the entire cast of A Different World“, Keisha Knight Pulliam’s mustache, Cecily Tyson and the “sloth” victim from Seven

Joe Movies: So with my final pick, I’m hitting you where you live.
Joe Movies: #10: Mrs. Bootleg.
That Bootleg Guy: HOLY SH*T!
Joe Movies: “And it was then that Aaron retired from writing. For he had no material.”

That Bootleg Guy: “What’d you write about me this week?”
That Bootleg Guy: “Nothing. A white guy from Buffalo owns your rights.”
Joe Movies: Ha!
That Bootleg Guy: And it’s a total domino effect, since the wife does 99% of the parenting, my Jalen references will have NOTHING to play off of
That Bootleg Guy: “Jalen threw up on…um, this woman I live with.”
Joe Movies: THAT’LL cost ya.
That Bootleg Guy: “No, honey…I’m talking about you…I just can’t say your fake name!”

Joe Movies: I also failed to bring up Abe Hayhurst, but it’s probably best that you keep him.
That Bootleg Guy: Agreed…and we’ll just split Steve Coogan down the middle or at the throat, which ever is less messy…
Joe Movies: It’d have to be long ways down the center. Because neither one of us is gonna want the half with the mouth.

That Bootleg Guy: I’m using this, y’know…
That Bootleg Guy: Go ahead and fire me, IP…
Joe Movies: F*ck yeah.
That Bootleg Guy: Ah, shit…can you tell me how I left the Ryan T. Murphy/411 staff forum quote “…so, seriously, f*ck you, Widro” on the table…
Joe Movies: Dude. The forgotten quip.

That Bootleg Guy: Anyways, get to bed…2:01 AM
Joe Movies: Will do.
Joe Movies: Happy editing.
That Bootleg Guy: Ugh…

General Haberdashery…The Last Links!

Jon-Jon Widro and Ashish Pabari share the top spot, as they’re the ones responsible for getting all of this started in the first place. Originally brought on as a music reviewer in December ‘02, I was given the chance for a weekly news column when the immortal Adam Cankaya bowed out. While often elusive, both were always supportive of my unconventional approach and occasionally inspired ideas.

Mathan Erhardt is the only writer on IP whose material I read from beginning to end, every week. I don’t always agree with him, whether it’s music, TV, comics or politics, but his candor is never without class. I’m really going to miss those reader e-mails to me that began with, “Did you read what Mathan just wrote…?” Yep. And, I hope you did, too.

Jeff Fernandez was the lynchpin in the package deal that brought me to IP, so now you know who to blame. Even though he hasn’t been a regular writer for months, no else’s off-the-wall observations have resonated with me like Jeff’s. From his Hostess Cupcake comics, to his music for strip clubs column, to The Dirty Dozen to his weekly links… Cheers!

Shawn M. Smith wrote the single, most awesome non-music intro in the history of the heavens. He’s also so subversively funny, that not everyone always gets the joke. We’ve talked offline a few times and he’s even funnier in real time. Hell, anyone that can make me care about so many acts I couldn’t care less about is already a helluva music writer.

Mike Eagle always seems to be able to make his material accessible to everyone. It always killed me whenever people would refer to me as the “rap guy”, when voices like Mike’s are the ones y’all should be listening to. Hell, he won over Nick Salemi and that’s something right there.

John Haley doesn’t write enough. I mean, seriously…the guy can talk sports, sports-entertainment and entertainment-entertainment with an effortless flow. He’s a Friend of the Bootleg from the 411 days and as much as I’ve enjoyed his work, our occasional offline emails were just as much fun.

And, since this might be the last chance I get to shout out any of my past and current peers, my sincere thanks to Matthew Michaels, Michael Melchor, Michaelangelo McCullar, T. Daniels, Evocator Manes, Dr. PHIL WATTS, Tayo Adesanya, J. Yayo Hernandez, Jason Gillis, Will Cooling, Colin Pigeau, the esteemed Eric S., the evil Smilo and, of course, my boys up and down IP Sports for your support, links, pimps and/or Bootleg love.

(I know I’m forgetting a few names, so don’t take it personally. I’ll get you on my next farewell column…only eleven more to get halfway to Melchor!)

J.A.M. = the fourth in a line of short-lived novelty writing nicknames for a trio of Inside Pulse and 411 writers.

J is for Movie Joe Reid. Let’s see…he mocks Jason Giambi and American male figure skater Johnny Weir. Easy targets, you say? Shut up, I retort! At least he’s updating the blog, again. Plus, an update on the creepy Reese Witherspoon “hit” on the photographer that harassed her last fall. Don’t f*ck with Flick. (I mean, the headline wrote itself, Joe…)

A is for me.

M is for TV Mathan. Could the return of TVM be in our future? Damn, I hope so…Y’see, earlier this week Coretta Scott King was laid to rest. Mrs. Bootleg was home that day and called me every 15 minutes to tell me what a raucous, wonderful scene it was. Did ya see it, Math? If so, me thinks we need your perspective. Lord knows no one else is gonna write about it ’round here.

Junk Mail: Origins & Explanations

From September 20, 2003…

Joe Reid
411 Movies

Yep…that’s Joe’s first email to me…and, speaking of firsts…

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From January 7, 2003…

Nick Salemi

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So, what’s up with you and IP after the Bootleg’s done and why are you quitting the column?

-Numerous Readers

I’ll still be around IP…keeping myself busy with the occasional CD review, music feature or sports feature. All I’m really giving up are weekly deadlines, which, unfortunately means the end of this column.

The short answer to why I’m wrapping this up is time. Of course, there’s more to it than that, but at the end of the day there just weren’t enough hours to write the Bootleg as I wanted to write it.

A few of you might’ve known that I was this close to ending the column last year at this time, but decided for 12 more months…which, probably ended up being 11 months too long. I love ALL my readers and dug every bit of your feedback, but I really thought the quality of this column got a little…uh, inconsistent.

Hell, there were even weeks when The Goodness felt like…work.

So, while I can’t exactly say that I’m leaving “on top” (even though, I am your two-time and current Music Writer of the Year), I do get to leave on my terms, while giving a little something back to everyone (well, one person) who’s been with me for the ride.

These last three years have been a dream come true for me.

The thought of someone…anyone reading something I wrote was humbling. And, you mean to tell me some of those people actually liked it? That’ll never stop blowing my mind.

In three years, I’ve heard from readers on five continents (too good for me, Africa and Antarctica?) I’ve heard from men and women…fans and critics…pre-teens and 40-somethings.

I sincerely hope that my colleagues get as much out of their experiences here at IP, as I have out of mine. And, while this isn’t the end of my IP run, I can honestly say that nothing I ever write…for anyone at any time…will bring me as much Goodness, as the Bootleg has brought me.

Congrats, Matt. Mrs. Bootleg drew your name out of Jalen’s toy train on Thursday night. So, here’s the deal…you’ve won an unopened, unused, brand spankin’ new iPod Nano. That’s 2GB, 500 songs, retail value $199. In addition, I’m throwing in a Bootleg T-shirt…retail value: significantly less.

Send me your mailing information and I’ll put the order in with Apple this weekend. There’s also a few terms n’ conditions I need to send out to you, but nothing to worry about…in fact, put away that dictionary…words like “indemnify” and “your own damn problem” are for me to worry about…not you.

Thanks to everyone who entered!

Life with the Bootleg Family

Jalen Henderson Cameron turned 2 years old on Tuesday. And, next Wednesday will be the 10th Valentine’s Day for me and Mrs. Bootleg. I’d love to tell y’all about both, but I just gave them the greatest gift of all: my Thursday nights.

It’s corny as hell and cheaper than candy!

For all of us at the Friday Music News Bootleg, I’m Aaron Cameron.

You stay classy, San Diego Planet Earth!

The last three years have been dedicated to the wife and the boy. And, now they get the rest of my life, too?! Get at me on Yahoo or AOL IM: ajcameron13.

On February 10, The Bootleg column will come to an end after a three-year run, first on 411Mania and then here on Inside Pulse. And, I can’t think of any better way to say “thank you” to my readers than to offer up the biggest giveaway in Bootleg histo-ray. One lucky reader will win a brand-new Apple iPod Nano! Thanks to everyone who entered. And, for details on the status of the contest, scroll down to the bottom of The Goodness…

Welcome back to The Bootleg. Last May, in this very ring space, I passed along the possibility that my job could be relocating my department to Reston, Virginia. The whole convoluted rumor involved internal business buzzwords like “reorganizing” and “core competencies”, yet after a few weeks of steam, our management changed course and assured us that we would be remaining in San Diego.

After the events of this week, it’s obvious that I must’ve missed it when my management was exaggeratingly gesturing towards themselves, when they said “we”.

This past Tuesday, I was in the middle of my 30 minute “power down” that immediately precedes my lunch hour. Somewhere between the cutting and/or pasting of internet articles into Microsoft Word files (giving off the illusion of paid labor), my boss came by and asked if I was available…”for a conference”.

I’m so used to the word “call” following that sentence, that I absentmindedly grabbed a notebook and spun out of my chair, nearly knocking over my boss, who hadn’t moved.

“Y’know, what…let’s talk outside”, he said.

Well, that got my attention. And, it also answered my life-long question of how would it feel if my head were to ever spontaneously combust. In fact, it’s funny, but during our 30- second stroll down The Green Mile of file cabinets, my thoughts were probably a lot like those of every other soon-to-be-executed convict:

Where did I go wrong and how did this cracka catch me?

At that moment, I could clearly see myself getting fired in the fresh air. The locals call it a “California canning” and, admittedly, it is devilishly delicious in its simplicity, sounding something like:

“Isn’t it a great day out here, Aaron?! I wish I didn’t get to go back to work!”

My fears, however, were ultimately unfounded. In fact, the reason behind all the administrative alfresco was so my boss could formally offer me an opportunity to join our sister facility just outside of Washington DC.

So, basically, my boss would still be getting rid of me and he’d get to collect the built-in accolades that come with our exciting employee referral program. Meanwhile, I’m left to wonder if a comedic character, not named Frasier Crane, can change coasts and maintain his ratings.

And, come on…The Goodness has gotta be better than Matt LeBlanc.

He’s Officially 42 Years Old, Time to Drop the ‘Lil’…

Alright, everyone, it’s time to choose up sides. In the blue corner, we have 116 lbs of shirtless worthlessness…from the lost city of Atlantis…rapper Lil’ Wayne!

And, in the red corner…so lazy and surly…fresh from one of their contractually mandated eight breaks a day…The Teamsters!

It seems that the two sides ran afoul of each other during the video shoot for Wayne’s latest Casio-beat sounding single Hustler Musik. According to numerous news stories, the dispute revolved around…wait, this can’t be right…the number of union bus drivers hired to work on the set?!

When did video shoots start requiring caravans? And, on the set, no less. I’m sorry, I just never considered the 50-yard walk to the lunch truck as something that needed buses and field trip permission slips. Anyways, The Teamsters shut the video shoot down by walking off the set and…wait for it…picketing the premises. As if we needed anymore evidence that grown men who publicly carry placards deserve our derision.

Order was restored a few hours later as both sides came to terms on a two-day contract. And, I can’t be the only one who thinks that this is about 47 hours and 45 minutes longer than anything involving Lil’ Wayne and his inexplicable fame.

That’s right…a “15 minutes of fame” joke. I am officially on auto-pilot, at this point, people.

The Pink & Black Attack…

Admittedly, I’m not much of a fan, so I’ll have to ask the masses: Has Pink always been such a cesspool of comedic possibilities? Everyone’s favorite post-op pop star is at it again, as the buzz for her new video, Stupid Girls has officially reached absurd, Super-Bowl-week hyperbole. The video includes images of Pink poking

(insert “pause” to further stretch out the “she’s-a-man” material…)

fun at pseudo-celebrities such as Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and Jessica Simpson. OK…when freakin’ Pink is dispensing the parodies, I almost wanna root for the media-created-their-fame females whom she’s attacking.

I said “almost”…I just need a few Pink quotes to complete my heel turn against her:

“As of Monday, when the video’s out, I’m going to have to wear a bulletproof vest.”

So, that’s what happens when you combine Kevlar with “who cares?”… Does Pink not know these three divas could buy her, sell her or decide not to buy her…like a slave on lay-a-way? And, if Paris can avoid that whole syphilis-cum-sterility stigma, the same can be said about all of their eventual offspring.

“My PR has already got so many calls from a bunch of women who think I’m (targeting) them, but I don’t care. I grab the phone myself and I’m like, ‘Yeah? What do you want?!’”

Have I really been missing out on identical quotes like these, from Pink, over the years? This is some “ghetto white girl” noise if I’ve ever read it. All Pink is missing is the perfectly-crafted “blaccent”, the beaded-out braids that Black folk haven’t worn since Serena Williams turned 16 and 100 10 more pounds.

Now that I think about it…wasn’t there once a tag team with the exact same make-up?

Make Mine Papa John’s

Jessica Simpson is once again teaming up with Pizza Hut for another insufferable ad campaign. During Sunday’s Super Bowl broadcast, the same gimmicky pizza chain that brought us Bigfoot, stuffed crust and commercials with the late Tommy Davidson, will debut a new spot featuring Simpson satirizing her music video These Boots Are Made for Walkin’.

In order to push Pizza Hut’s sure-to-be-sh*tty “cheesy bites”, Simpson will “sing” the slightly tweaked tune These Bites Are Made for Poppin’. Wait, it gets better…during the 60-second ad, Simpson will toss these gooey turds into the mouths of “customers”, who don’t realize that after six hours of shooting, the cheese has congealed into a cold, oily…whoops…kind of got off on a stomach-turning tangent there, didn’t I?

Well, let’s not quite get back on track by asking if there’s anyone who really thinks that Jessica Simpson is attractive? I just can’t get past that creepy, cemented grin, kids. Hell, if her movie career had started 20 years ago, she’d be stealing scenes from Michael Keaton.

Instead, she spent the summer stealing eight dollars from everyone else.

It Was the Good of Times…It Was the Blurst of Times?!

Proving that the media whore doesn’t fall too far from the self-serving tree, Kanye West’s dad, Ray, is speaking out against…Kanye West. The sociology professor has publicly implored his boy to ease up on what Papa West calls “the degradation of African-Americans” in his son’s songs. Specifically, he’d like to see Kanye kill the use of “n*gga” and “b*tch” from his lyrics. In Ray West’s own words:

“It’s alright to say ‘b*tch’ on the (street) corner, but when you start operating on a different level, you can’t talk like that.”

Now, far be it for me to defend Mr. “I need Jesus, like Kathie Lee needs Regis”, but it sounds like Old Man Ray has forgotten just who paid for that soapbox that he’s currently standing atop. In fact, me thinks somebody needs a Black History Month reminder on The Son & The Father.

Y’see, 30 years ago, there was another man…proud and noble…who cut a dashing paternal profile. He’d work two or three jobs, bringing in these meager wages in hope of providing for his family. Then, without warning, his son became an overnight sensation. T-shirts, television, the sky was the limit.

Father was not pleased.

He pissed, bitched and moaned to anyone would listen until, eventually…he was killed. Now, you might know The Father. And, I doubt anyone remembers The Son, but I guess at the end of the day he’s still more famous than this son.

I mean, how did Ralph Carter fall off the face of the earth in the ’80s? The entire decade was essentially The Renaissance for The Beige Bruthas. Stoney Jackson was working steady, The Cosby Show introduced Elvin and Macy Gray was still the starting point guard for the Boston Celtics.

(She’s still mine for one more week, Joe Reid.)

Nick’a Please
conceptualized by Nick Salemi

Wow, the Bootleg is finally coming to a close.

Well, let’s get right to it. We recapped what went right in Hip Hop in 2005 and 2006’s already a month old with nothing to show for it (save for one “little” incident, which I’ll address briefly). Several established artists that have changed labels and some newcomers are (still) waiting to drop their albums. Here’s what I’m looking forward to for the rest of the year:

VETERANS’ DAY

Nas on Def Jam
I was worried that it might be too late for him. Street’s Disciple wasn’t his worst effort. It wasn’t his best, either. I’ve been a huge fan of Nas since Illmatic and will always give his records a chance. With Jigga working with him, don’t pretend you don’t want to at least hear it.

Busta Rhymes on Aftermath
I’ve NEVER bought a Busta Rhymes album. Not that I don’t like him, I just always viewed him as a guy who dropped a couple hot singles, but the albums left a little to be desired (and can you argue that that’s how he has been marketed). He was putting albums out once a year for a while, there. However, he’s taken his time while working with Dr. Dre and others for The Big Bang. The three tracks that I’ve heard (I’ll Hurt You, Touch It and Where’s Your Money feat ODB) in the last few months are all hot (even if some of them don’t make the album) and show that Busta has been hard at work in the lab. There’s no denying that he’s poised to get even bigger than he is.

Mobb Deep and M.O.P. on G-Unit
OK, I actually have high hopes for this, misguided or not. If these guys just make the music they normally make with an enhanced marketing-moneymaking machine behind them and a decent business deal, it should be the albums everyone has been waiting for. AND they’ll finally get paid. (Which is nice for them.)

CL Smooth – American Me
WHAT?? Yes, CL Smooth is back in 2006. I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard some of his new tracks. Dude sounds resurrected with some good beats, and mind you hot beats with a 1992 flow doesn’t amount to sh*t in 2006, but he’s stepped his game up lyrically, too. He’s supposedly going to drop an EP first, and then an album. Don’t expect a Pete Rock reunion, though.

Ghostface and Raekwon solo albums
Ghost has proven he still has it with The Pretty Toney Album. Expect Fishscale to be hot, too and for Ghost to get the recognition he deserves this time. It’s Raekwon that has something to prove as his two follow ups to Only Built For Cuban Linx have flopped. It sounds like he’s pulling out all the stops with producers and guests, as well as dangerously naming it Only Built For Cuban Linx 2. Gulp.

READY TO TAKE OVER

Joe Budden
OK, so obviously Joe already dropped an album a few years back, so it’s not like he’s new. He’s kept fans happy with multiple mixtapes, which arguably are better than many “rappers’” full-fledged commercial album releases. Joe has skills and is on Def Jam, one of Hip Hop’s premier labels. Will he get the support from President Carter? Or is their roster flooded with so many artists that Joe will get pushed to the background? If they have resources to produce Ja Rule’s greatest hits and a NORE album they can spend some time and cash on Budden.

Papoose
The mixtape king recently dropped ANOTHER album A Threat and a Promise through DJ Kay Slay’s Streetsweepers series. I think he’s in double digits over the last year and change for “mixtape” albums. I’ll take what I can get as he most likely wants to make sure his money is right before signing a deal and doing an official release. However, the clock is ticking.

Saigon
Here’s the artist I really want to hear from the most this year. He’s been bubbling underground for years now and is positioned to make his mark in 06. The fact that Just Blaze signed him to his own label and will executive produce the album has made the anticipation that much greater. Lyrically, he’s vastly superior to your favorite radio rapper. Maybe the most impressive thing about the content of his music is that he’s lived the life most studio thugs profess to have lived, but chooses not to glorify it. Oh yeah, maybe you’ve seen him on HBO’s Entourage, too. Look for The Greatest Story Never Told to hopefully change the game.

**footnote: I’m not bothering to talk about Dr. Dre’s Detox and Redman’s Red Gone Wild as it’s been about 5 years and waiting for each of those.

Dipset Dipsh*t
As for the Cam’ron-Jay Z nonsense, Jay’s non-answer states volumes about Cam’s relevancy. While the stunt was an obvious attempt to garner sales for his new album, the buzz has already died down. The “scathing” diss, among several “serious” charges, clowned on Jigga’s wearing open toed sandals. Imagine this from a guy who on his first album cover was dressed like a lost member of the Village People and who tries to set fashion trends by wearing pink. I’m just saying.

The scars from Horse & Carriage remain.

General Haberdashery

Open Mike takes it back to 1995, without once mentioning music institutions and icons like The Box, Biological Didn’t Bother or Keep Their Heads Ringing. Pfft…and you call yourself a Hip Hop fan?

Canadian T. covers the two-fisted absurdity of Bono the Rapper and 50 Cent the Children’s Author. Not to be confused with PaRappa the Rapper who, as we all know, looks like Jeff Fernandez.

Comics Mathan is pretty much all you people are going to get from Craig David these days. He’s mourning the loss of Plastic Man, the comic book, but has yet to comment on the 25 year anniversary of the cancellation of the Plastic Man Saturday Morning cartoon. It had Plastic-Baby.

J.A.M. = the fourth in a line of short-lived novelty writing nicknames for a trio of Inside Pulse and 411 writers.

J is for Movie Joe Reid. He correctly predicted 35/40 in the eight major Oscar categories (nominations). And, if you don’t believe it, those just happen to be the first 10 words in his latest post. And, this ain’t retroactive back-patting, go see for yourself. Ooh, and check out his sidebar for reviews of the latest eps of Veronica Mars, 24 and a new pilot Aaron Cameron Archive.

A is for me.

M is for TV Mathan. As an inoffensive dig, I intended to link Mathan’s first-ever TV column, just to poke fun at how bad all of our first columns were. But, I’ll be damned if he didn’t have me re-reading this piece from 2004, top to bottom. The origin of TV Mathan, along with…depth? Read it now, before Math takes down the column since it reveals more about him than he’s ever told. I said read it now!

Junk Mail: All IM Edition

Last weekend, I spent a few hours online chatting with both longtime and first-time IMers. I’m not sure how well this will read here, but I egged everyone into asking me questions for this, the last regularly scheduled Junk Mail segment (as a small, inside-surprise is in store for next week). These were some of my favorite or most frequently asked questions:

Are you REALLY ending The Bootleg or is this some sort of ‘Mick Foley’ farewell where you come back in six months with a book deal and half a supermarket around your midsection?

You’re reading the penultimate edition of The Goodness, kids. One more week and it’s a wrap. Jesus, has Vince turned you all into incurable cynics?

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Are you and (insert any IP writer) feuding? It sounds like it from reading your column.

Before the influx of “is this really the end” questions, this one and all its variants could really fill an in-box. The short answer is that I can count the number of peers whom I’ve “feuded” with on one hand, with fingers to spare, so if you’re reading a shot at, oh, say, Mathan, chances are that he’s in on the joke. Now, John Haley, on the other hand…

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Asking about your favorite column is too obvious, so what’s your least favorite piece?

No f*ckin’ contest…and, oddly enough, it’s the column that ran exactly one week before my all-time favorite column. Back on February 2, 2004, Mrs. Bootleg was admitted to the hospital. She spent a week there before giving birth. Obviously, I didn’t have time to write a Bootleg that week, so I substituted my work-in-progress Super Bowl running diary in its place. It’s longer than 11 of Joe Reid’s TV columns and absolutely unreadable.

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Has the wife ever actually read your columns and what you say about her or do you just spend Friday nights on the couch?

Fortunately, she’s a good sport about anything involving herself. What she doesn’t like is pretty much anything else about the column. She doesn’t get the jokes, she thinks I’m too mean to the celebrities and she’s convinced that I need more pictures of Jalen every week. In short, she’s just like my four or five other female fans.

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With all of your infamous references to the ’80s, I’ve got to ask. Just how old are you?

In Bootleg parlance: Aaron Cameron, 32, will celebrate a birthday on March 30.

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Have you ever tried to parlay your writing into a real gig (read: paid gig)?

Yep. In fact, after that 10-part Countdown to Resurrection series on Tupac, I was contacted by a fairly well-known publication. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out, but just the fact that they found me pretty much made my millennium.

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Have you ever received feedback from anyone famous over anything you’ve written?

Nope…unless you count my 2003 feud with little-known West Coast rapper Shade Sheist over a negative review I wrote or someone who may or may not have been Young City a/k/a Choppa from Diddy’s “Da Band” group. Although, I did get a nasty email, just two weeks ago, from a woman claiming to be the “best friend” of the married woman who Usher is dating. She sent out a mass mailing and one, just to me, that began “Dear Asshole”. Seems I mocked her girl. I can’t make this up.

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C’mon…are you REALLY quitting the Bootleg?

God dammit…

So, here’s the deal…one Bootleg reader will win an unopened, unused, brand spankin’ new iPod Nano. That’s 2GB, 500 songs, retail value $199. In addition, I’m throwing in a Bootleg T-shirt…retail value: significantly less.

Once again, I’d like to thank everyone who poured through the archives and sent in answers to the four trivia questions. And, speaking of answers, let’s find out if you made it to the final round:

Week One’s Question…worth one point: What’s Baby Bootleg’s REAL first name?

Rule #1 of ensuring contest participation…make the first question easy enough to fool everyone into thinking they have a chance. C’mon…in the column that this question ran, I’m sure I probably used Jalen’s given name eight or nine times.

Week Two’s Question…worth two points: Name TWO living Black actresses who WEREN’T mentioned in me and Joe Reid’s Black Actress Survivor feature.

Note to self…if I ever decide to run this same question again in another contest, make sure ANY black-tress from UPN is eliminated up front. Or, to quote our own Movie Joe Reid:

“Unless they were also famous elsewhere, naming a black person from UPN is like naming a white actress from the WB. Or ABC. Or CBS. Or … well, you see where I’m going with this.”

Hell, I’ve never even seen Girlfriends, but I’m expected to believe my readers can name a couple of cast members off-the-cuff and without visiting the official UPN site?

Oh, and to all of you who mentioned Tia and Tamara Mowry of Sister, Sister fame, go to hell. Freakin’ twins? And WB twins, no less? The rules have just changed, you’re all disqualified. OK, I’m kidding…but, still.

Final thoughts: We listed over 60 Black actresses in the BAS thang and managed to forget Phylicia Rashad, yet found room for Irma P. Hall and Rain Pryor? We suck. Oh, and for those of you who offered up Whoopi Goldberg as one of your answers, Joe and I are in agreement:

“Whoopi Goldberg was indeed traded to the Caucasian race, the second she didn’t kick the ever-loving shit out of Ted Danson for l’affaire d’blackface. She had already been on thin ice for the whole Billy Crystal/Robin Williams thing as it was.”

Week Three’s Question…worth three points: In the first-ever MFWNTAK column, who was the only woman to appear among the top three nominees?

This one ended up being as easy as the first question, as there was no one who didn’t answer Nicole Richie. Fortunately for most of you, I’m not marking you down for incorrectly including a “T” in her surname. That’s a warning.

Over the lifetime of The Bootleg, name all FOUR short-lived novelty writing nicknames used for a trio of Inside Pulse and 411 writers in the General Haberdashery segment.

The good news is that the response to the Goodbye Giveaway was tremendous. The bad news is that a LOT of you got tripped up on the fourth and final question. Most of the confusion came from the fact that I had used “The Weekend Bookends” alongside the “J.A.M.” name for a week or two. In addition, way too many of you sent in “General Haberdashery” as one of the names.

I’d feel a lot worse for my part in this, if these same people hadn’t actually sent in answers to question #2 like Thea (Shelton Benjamin’s momma) Vidale and Robin Quivers. I’m sorry, I can’t let this go.

Anyways, the answers are J.A.M., The Minority Report, 3 Tha Friday & 3 Tha Hardway.

Needless to say, there were several entrants who scored a perfect 10. And, for them, it’s the simplest of tiebreakers. Each finalist’s name goes into a hat and Mrs. Bootleg will close her eyes, reach in and select one winner. Check back next week to see if you’re randomly better than everyone else who got the same score as you!

Next Week: The final fate of The Bootleg is revealed! (In case you haven’t been reading for the last five weeks.) Get at me on Yahoo or AOL IM: ajcameron13.

On February 10, The Bootleg column will come to an end after a three-year run, first on 411Mania and then here on Inside Pulse. And, I can’t think of any better way to say “thank you” to my readers than to offer up the biggest giveaway in Bootleg histo-ray. One lucky reader will win a brand-new Apple iPod Nano! Details are at the bottom of The Goodness…along with pictures of an even better additional prize!

Welcome back to The Bootleg. OK, so here’s the thing…last week, I worked about 70 hours, which pushed this column back to Saturday afternoon. Truth be told, I wasn’t all that happy with the end result, but I promised myself that this week’s column would feature a concerted effort to finish up with the best three Bootlegs I’ve ever written.

Then, last Saturday night, Mrs. Bootleg threw some burgers on the grill.

But, behind this seemingly innocuous ground cow was something more sinister. Y’see, the night before, my wife had promised me the very same steamed hams for dinner. She’d thawed the meat on the kitchen counter all day then, after disappearing upstairs for several hours, came down to cook at around 8:00 PM.

It was actually pretty funny, as I could hear Mrs. Bootleg frantically typing away on the computer, then, suddenly, she stopped. It was as if she looked at the ubiquitous little clock in the lower right corner of the computer screen and realized she had forgotten…something. She pumped her little duck feet as fast as she could, sprinted downstairs and asked:

“Are you ready to eat?”

Now, before my four or five female fans rake me over the same hot coals that weren’t cooking my dinner last Friday, let me say that I could’ve just as easily done dinner duty. And, I know how tired she must’ve been after working, on average, about 3 more hours a day than our cat and Kid Cameron, combined.

As for me, spite superseded my appetite, so I told her it was “too late” to eat. I even served up a side of “guilt sauce”, when I made sure she saw me nuking a thimble full of our son’s kid-sized Kraft Dust n’ Macaroni for dinner.

So, on Saturday, I had my long-awaited mock Whopper.

And, as of this writing, my stomach hasn’t been the same since.

I’ll spare you guys the goriest details, but among my symptoms that aren’t too taboo to bring up: stomach cramps, loss of appetite, nausea and a crazy lethargic sluggishness that, to date, has only been seen in healthy bruthas down in The Bayou.

The wife insists it’s stomach flu, but I wonder… Neither she nor the boy had any of Bootleg Burgers that she grilled up, which sat for 12 hours outside the fridge before spending another full day in it. Was this, in fact, simple salmonella or could she have access to some expensive chemical technology that would make me violently ill for a few days?

Kind of like those “sick sticks” in Tom Cruise’s Minority Report or just sitting through the third act of Tom Cruise’s Minority Report. It’s called film editing, Mr. Spielberg, and it would’ve really added some zip to Schindler’s List.

Normally, you can spell Immodium AD without “Goodness”…just, not this week.

Como se Dice “Crap” en Español?

Jennifer Lopez has kept a relatively low profile since her and Red Sox Nation spokesman Boston Ben Affleck broke up. Sure, sure…she homewrecked Marc Anthony’s marriage and starred in Pretty Woman 2: This Time, She (sic) A Maid!, but nothing that’s been Goodness-worthy, y’know?

Well, apparently, she has a production company that’s planning to explore the reggaeton genre.

For those that don’t know, reggaeton is basically the played-out sound of everyday reggae mixed with Latin American influences, such as mesquite-grilled onions, jalapeño relish and mango-lime salsa. Sharp-eared readers will note that this is the kind of bold flavor they’ve always enjoyed in…Albuquerque! Anyways, a screenplay is already in place. Here’s the plot summary featured in the press release:

“Rob, a 21-year-old from the South Bronx, NY dreams of making it big in Hip Hop. A run-in with local thugs, however, forces him to leave New York to hide with his father in Puerto Rico. There, he discovers love and reggaeton, and with the help of his half-brother, who is a DJ, becomes a star of the burgeoning genre. But, when a corrupt music producer “discovers” Rob and offers him a record deal that brings him back to New York, a new conflict threatens his romance and his budding career.”

Holy sh*t. Seriously, I would leave work early just to reserve one of the two copies sure to be available at Blockbuster next Tuesday. And, please tell me that Luis Guzman is available to play the “corrupt music producer”. He looks so out of place on those I Love the ’80s specials…I half-expect the camera to pull back so we can see him on an old cord phone behind six inches prison-escape proof glass.

And, how ’bout that plot? Don’t the first two sentences read like the opening credits of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air?

Even Trick Daddy Don’t Return Her Calls

Anyone remember Jacki-O, the one-hit wonder from two summers ago who dropped Nookie on an unsuspecting and will-listen-to-anything public?

Well, according to the Miami Herald, the Nookie has run dry. Angela “Jacki-O” Kohn has filed for Chapter 7 bankruptcy. Admittedly, broke-ass rapper stories aren’t exactly newsworthy, especially since MC Hammer raised the bar so high that no one could touch… What? Fine, I’ll go another direction.

Court papers filed by Kohn reveal that she’s declared debts totaling $144,225 and assets in the amount of…$1,340? Now, I happen to be privy to at least one Black woman’s bank account and I wanna know how much of Kohn’s assets aren’t tied up in press-on nails and her baby daddy’s bail? Was there even enough left for a bus pass or does she just call (collect) one of Miami’s surplus of untalented acts, when she needs a ride?

My favorite part of this story, besides everything about it, is the list of creditors she owes, including the IRS, Verizon cellular phone and Bally’s Total Fitness. Them ring tones will kill you, bitch. But, I guess they sounded good when your phone went off during those twice-a-week 10-minute treadmill marathons.

Wait…I take that back…my favorite thing here is the following quote from Jacki-O, herself, on how she got into this mess:

Kanye Fears Grimlock

Have you seen the latest issue of Rolling Stone? Kanye West captures the cover…and controversy!

Yep, that’s Kanye Christ and he has died for our sins. Inside this month’s RS cover story, Kanye dismisses his competition at the upcoming Grammy Awards, talks about his political views and details his self-described addiction to pornography.

OK…at what point to do people stop putting cameras and microphones in this guy’s face? He’s not “controversial”, he’s “consistent”. He says variations of the same shocking things in every interview. So, he has no time for President Bush, but all day for the online, um…adult kind? That’s not “daring”, it’s the Democratic Party.

Kanye West is essentially “Terrell Owens, Registered Voter”.

And, does anyone still consider Rolling Stone magazine and its 2 feet-by-3 feet publication size to be anything more than a dinosaur in this digital age? I imagine the Dinobots suffered through the same uncertainty during filming of Transformers: The Movie. The scripts and the storyline were set 20 years in the future, but they were all expected to speak in their same stilted prehistoric speech, like an in-studio Shannon Sharpe.

Apparently, there aren’t any Autobots whose “function” is phonics.

Feets Don’t Fail Me Now

Why am I just now finding out that Master P has been on ABC’s insipid Dancing with the Stars, all season?

I managed to catch him last night and I urge everyone to follow suit. It was like watching NASCAR with an actual Negro onscreen and a guaranteed car crash that no one would survive. Except, P isn’t only surviving…he’s been steadily advancing week after week and the show’s fans are crying “OMG, foul”.

Much like American Idol, the viewers get to vote on their favorite performances and P’s pulling them in from somewhere. In fact, the show’s fans are convinced that because he’s a “big rap star” that his followers are stuffing the virtual ballot box, as it were.

Um, didn’t Eric Bischoff make the exact same mistake, with the exact same man five or six years ago?

“Master P, rap sensation” ran on the independent campaign ticket for about five months, in late 1997 and early 1998. He was soundly defeated by DMX in the ‘98 primaries and, just five minutes ago, garnered less support than the Lord Tariq n’ Peter Gunz conglomerate. This is just plain and simple ballot box sabotage, kids.

Imagine if the worst dancer on earth actually wins this thing. It’d be like “William Hung, American Idol” or “Tommy ‘The Machine’ Gunn, Heavyweight Champion”. And, I’m told Hung had a better soundtrack.

Although, not by much.

General Haberdashery

No Jeff Fernandez. No Mathan Erhardt. No Shawn M. Smith. It’s officially down to me and Mike Eagle, people. And, I think we all remember the last time a certain segment of the pop-culture landscape went all (411)Black, right? Now, let’s never speak of this again.

Open Mike continues his streak of magnificence on Mondays. I’ve received several e-mails over the years that start out: “I don’t even like rap, but I still read you.” Then, read Mike, too. I guarantee you’ll be feeling this week’s piece on growing older, while holding on to your music.

Comics Mathan gets a rare pimp, if only because earlier this week, the Modest One referred to himself (himself) as one of the zone’s main draws. Of course, it’s true, but who knew Craig David had an ego? Anyways, I make a guest appearance that includes the author’s inability to detect my sarcasm (“10-year-plan”). It’ll make less sense even after you read it.

IP Sports has shown me love several times and I never get a chance to reciprocate. We’ve got ourselves a slew of new talent covering every beat on the block. And, with all those metaphors I just mixed, I think now is as good a time as any to wrap up this portion of the links.

J.A.M. = the fourth in a line of short-lived novelty writing nicknames for a trio of Inside Pulse and 411 writers.

(The lack of new material has apparently affected my comrades in J.A.M., as well.)

J is for Movie Joe Reid. Last night, we were online and I inquired about this issue. His response will shock you:

That Bootleg Guy: So busy at work that I haven’t had time to see you not update the blog.
Movie Joe Reid: Hey, I’ve got seventeen damn hours of American Idol on my hands. You and the rest of my readers can go to hell.

And, look…Joe does have something new at Television Without Pity! He’s reviewing the American Idol auditions and if that doesn’t compel you to click that link…well, then I’ve got nothing else. Oh, did I mention he’s got pics from Paula Abdul’s 1994 Penthouse photo shoot?

A is for me.

M is for TV Mathan. I just put “Remote Destination” and “Mathan” into Google and came up with this column first. It’s from January 2005 and notable because Math states that “Charlie (from ABC’s Lost) can take a punch.” HAW! Math also says he’s “about done with Desperate Housewives“. Christ, this is straight retroactive comedy. Finally, he suggests I shave my head. Eh, maybe tomorrow.

Junk Mail

Quick summary of the feedback to last week’s column: Californians don’t know what REAL cold is, this “end of the Bootleg” stuff is all a swerve and…

Is it wrong that the thought of your petite little wife getting blown through the back of her car due to an exploding airbag made me laugh out loud? Her fear should be that once the column ends, you won’t need her around for material anymore. Someone might want to alert the police.

David C.

Why…that’s…that’s crazy talk. Besides, she’s got three years of “material” to use in our eventual divorce proceedings and if my insults over the years help hasten things along…

===

So, it really gets down to the LOW 30s in Cali, Cam? Wow, what a rough “Evans Family existence” y’all must be suffering through out there. By noon, it’s back to 72 and the locals can enjoy their packed salads on a park bench in the middle of “winter”.

Gregg E.

Hell, even I mocked my state’s low tolerance for “low” temperatures. If I could only remember where it was…oh, yeah…in last week’s column.

===

Just ignore the guaranteed flames, Aaron. It was f*ckin’ cold last week. I work third shift out at Metro over in Chatsworth and since they don’t allow us to smoke inside anymore, six of us have to huddle together with only the warm glow of our lit cigarettes to heat us up. After a certain temp, cold is just cold. It’s like how athletes don’t know there’s NO difference between 9 and 10 million. 30 degrees might as well be 0 degrees.

A.J.

Whoa, whoa, whoa… I’ve been in both and trust me, the difference between 30 and zero is, well, 30 degrees. I don’t want to be outside in either environment, but at 30 degrees, my hands still have feeling in the event I have to pee outside, behind a tree or something. At zero…accidents, my friend. And, more than once.

===

Are we ever going to get an explanation as to why That Bootleg Guy is abandoning Fridays and leaving us all to find our own funny? Please tell me you’re not saving your “evil villain explains his plan” piece for your final column. If you get hit by a bus before then, we’ll never know. Think about it.

Paul B.

Yikes. The readers have gotten a wee bit, um, anxious for the exposition piece. And, I was going to tell you people everything this week, but thanks to Paul BARONE from the University of PENNSYLVANIA, you’ll all have to wait two more weeks. If you see him on campus, you can thank him your…wait a tic. I’ve got Ivy League readers? I mean, I know it’s just Penn, but still…!

===

So, can we assume that you’re not going to be burning any bridges on your way out of the IP doors? After three years of sharing screen time with dozens and dozens of self-important net scribes, I was sure you’d have dirt to dish. Well, if you’re not going to go all “Hit ‘Em Up” on everyone, how about digging into that Junk Mail feedback and compiling your most Frequent Asked Questions? Your “mail” section was one of my favorite parts of the ‘Leg and I have to believe that not everyone wrote in to tell you that your Westside Connection review sucked.

José R.

A Bootleg FAQ? Um, it probably doesn’t get anymore self-important than that, Jose. Therefore, I’ll do it next week.

===

You’re running out of time…we still need our last Joe Reid and Nicka Please collabos. Is it still going to happen or are you waiting for when the three of you debut at your new website, which debuts the day after The Bootleg ends?

Michael S.

Next Week: It’s me and Joe…and a pop-culture draft.

In 2 Weeks: It’s me and Nick…and the final M*thaf*ckas Who Need They Ass Kicked List.

So, here’s the deal…one Bootleg reader will win an unopened, unused, brand spankin’ new iPod Nano. That’s 2GB, 500 songs, retail value $199. All you have to do is answer four questions, spread out over the next four weeks, relating to anything I’ve ever written in The Bootleg.

Continuing this week, I’m running a question in this space. Don’t send me the answer to this or any subsequent questions until all FOUR questions have been posted here! I don’t wanna hear from any of you until January 27 now, when the fourth n’ final question will appear.

You now have a week to send in ALL the answers in ONE email. No more entries will be accepted after the February 3 edition of The Bootleg is posted and up on IP. The reader with the most points wins. Tiebreaker to be determined, if necessary. Inside Pulse writers ain’t eligible. Winner to be announced in last column on February 10!

AND, I’m throwing in a limited-edition (cough) “I Read The Bootleg” T-Shirt to the winner, as well. Be the envy of no one, as our male model demonstrates, by telling everyone that you…read…me. Through the magic of our IP technology, the “read” sounds like present tense through February 10 and then changes to past tense (same spelling!) for every day, thereafter. On the back is one of my inappropriate quotes from an old column, which is guaranteed to offend. Yours will be different and less, um, “wordy”.

(Thanks to Widro, Matthew Michaels and their NY street corner connections for making my own T-Shirt a sweatshop reality…)

This Week’s Question…worth four points total (one point for each you can name): Over the lifetime of The Bootleg, name all FOUR short-lived novelty writing nicknames used for a trio of Inside Pulse and 411 writers in the General Haberdashery segment.

Week Three’s Question…worth three points: In the first-ever MFWNTAK column, who was the only woman to appear among the top three nominees?

Week Two’s Question…worth two points: Name TWO living Black actresses who WEREN’T mentioned in me and Joe Reid’s Black Actress Survivor feature.

Week One’s Question…worth one point: What’s Baby Bootleg’s REAL first name?

Go win your iPod! Get at me on Yahoo or AOL IM: ajcameron13.

On February 10, The Bootleg column will come to an end after a three-year run, first on 411Mania and then here on Inside Pulse. And, I can’t think of any better way to say “thank you” to my readers than to offer up the biggest giveaway in Bootleg histo-ray. One lucky reader will win a brand-new Apple iPod Nano! Details are at the bottom of The Goodness…along with pictures of an even better additional prize!

Welcome back to The Bootleg. Two weeks ago, I was using this non-music intro to mock the arctic climate of all non-Californians. We had just enjoyed a sunny, 75-degree Christmas Day and all was right with our warm, warm world.

One week ago, I was using this non-music intro to celebrate the arrival and accompanying amenities of our new SUV. Now, keep in mind that I’ve actually only driven the new ride once or twice since the first week we bought it. But, I can take comfort in knowing that my 4′8″ wife must sit approximately two centimeters from the driver’s side air bag, in order to reach the pedals.

If that bad boy ever deploys, they’ll be picking up her pieces off the streets for weeks.

Sure, that might seem a wee bit mean-spirited, but since the arrival of the SUV, I’ve actually been the one forced out onto the street. After spending the last five years parking my car in an underground (or overground) garage, I’ve been forced to return to parking, overnight…on the street.

For those of you who don’t know, we live in a section of San Diego known as Rancho Bernardo (and, yes…every section of San Diego ends in a vowel and sounds like a new fun flavor that the Frito-Lay folks devised for Doritos). Anyways…two things about “R.B.”: One, this community’s median age is about 80, so grand theft auto isn’t an option. Two, we’re far enough inland that it’s usually warmer than the coast during the day and colder than any place in the state at night.

Now, I know that “West Coast cold” can’t compare to “East Coast cold”, but this past Monday it was 30 degrees when I left for work, just after 5:00 AM. Yeah, yeah…laugh all you want, Albany, but with the wind chill, it felt like 24 or 25 degrees.

How cold was it? It seemed that, overnight, a white icy-like substance had formed on my windshield. I tried everything to get it off, which actually amounted to using my windshield wipers, then trying the wipers with the washer fluid. Neither one worked!

Eventually, I found a squeegee and scraped the frozen water concoction off. Freaky. And, yes, you sharp-eyed readers will note that this past Monday was Martin Luther King Day and his “dream” for me was to be at work about 60 minutes before sunrise.

I’m convinced this is why Dr. King gave his “I Have a Dream” speech in the summer. Actually, I have no idea when he gave that speech, since we don’t technically have to know until next month.

Do I still have time to steal Nick’s “FREEze at last, FREEze at last” joke? Nah, I’ll wait until next week.

The Goodness is like your rear window defroster on a cold, wintry morn…

B-Ball’s Best Kept Secret II

Journeyman NBA baller, Nick Van Exel, has filed a lawsuit against two men he claims have defrauded him out of $1.2 million dollars. The two were originally hired by Van Exel to oversee his “RapRock Records & Films” production company and specifically tasked with launching the rap career of Van Exel’s cousin, Smoot.

And, I’ve got even money that says “Smoot” ain’t a stage name.

Anyways, Van Exel alleges that Wilson Ebiye and Leonard Chukwemeke illegally funneled money from the company to buy several high-priced vehicles for themselves. Judging from those surnames, I’m certain that this isn’t the first scam these two have attempted to pull. Hard to believe that an athlete could be fooled to the tune of seven figures, before finally realizing something was wrong.

I mean, it’s not like ol’ Nicky has his looks to fall back on, either. If roaches were just slightly more evolved and walking upright… Oh, that’s cruel. Van Exel isn’t the league’s ugliest player…he just happens to be in the back row of the class picture. And, my…what a surprise…look who’s in front of him.

Personally, I think Nick needs to grow his hair out, again, and head back to Hollywood. Surely, UPN can find another series vehicle for him, after his successful run on The Parkers.

Puff Daddy Stinks!

It’s stories like these that forced Jeff Fernandez underground. Sean “Diddy” Combs picked up his weekly ration of inexplicable publicity when it was announced that advertisements for his new scent, “Unforgivable”, were deemed “too sexy” for department store displays.

The ads featured the mumbling one in bed with not one, but two women, in an ill-fated attempt to have us believe that any scent other than “he’s worth $500 million” had any effect on these ménage-a-trois models. The ads were re-shot this week, with just one bitch in bed…oh, and the woman next to him. I’m not sure why, but John Demsey, the President of Estée Lauder, chimed in on this one:

“It’s unfortunate that some people were so uncomfortable with something with that much sexual presence, but we stand by it.”

“Sexual?” OK, we’ve been over this several times before, but once more for the road: sex is “sexual”…everything else, not so much. Sorry, but the image of a 36-year-old Diddy and his deer-in-the-headlights, blank-slate stare as the meat in a video skank sandwich isn’t so much “sexual” as it is “penicillin”.

We “get it”, Diddy: 1.) You’re cock-tacular in the sack. 2.) Half a billion dollars is now not enough money, apparently. Jesus Christ, people…at some point a man gets so rich, that every additional dollar he earns is immediately devalued and the slow collapse of the national economy commences.

And, for those of you I’ve already lost, the above example is why you should never wish for “all the money in the world”. Has Kazaam taught us nothing?

Why Not Just Call It “Grillz”? It’s Called “Cross-Promotion”, People…

Ever wonder what happened to Nelly’s talentless syndicate known as the St. Lunatics? Yeah, well…for this, pretend you did. Nelly is bringing the band back together for the opening of a new restaurant venture.

They’re all investors in “Mack’s Bar & Grill”, which will be located in the suburbs of St. Louis. I’m not exactly sure how the five of them came up with a collective thought process, but Nelly’s business manager sheds some light on the endeavor:

“Nelly has always looked for business opportunities and [Nelly's partner] Ali ran across this [property].”

While I agree that “from the police” should be the next three words in that sentence, it sounds like everything here is on the up and up. In fact, Nelly and his crew are actually buying the restaurant from its former owner, Theresa Ahern. She will continue to own the property, while Nelly n’ them own the business.

Who else smells sitcom?

Five unruly, unwashed rappers open an eatery in the suburbs and play themselves, while enduring an endless array of interference from their nosy landlady (played by the late Nedra Volz).

And, to complete the stereotypical casting, we’ll need a little white boy to play the inevitable “only one who understands the Black man”.

At first, his schtick will come off as “cute”, like watching Jonathan Lipnicki in the first five minutes of Jerry Maguire, but then you’ll want to kill him, like watching Jonathan Lipnicki in every scene he’s been in…in anything…ever since.

Cannonball Run II Was On This Morning…That’s What I Blame

Our light-skinned brothers in yellow journalism over at The New York Daily News are reporting that Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown are planning to divorce after 14 years of wedded spliff. Brown has reportedly been telling friends and family that he plans to move out of the couple’s Atlanta estate and relocate to Connecticut in an attempt to resuscitate the corpse that is his career.

Earlier this month, Brown made several gossip pages with his behavior backstage at a show at The Foxwoods Casino in Mashantucket, CT. Over the course of the evening, as R&B acts like SWV, Guy and Blackstreet took the stage, Bobby was seen in the company of several groupies. Paparazzi captured…wait a minute. SWV? Guy? Blackstreet?

Funny…but, I’m sure it wasn’t “12 years ago” when I went to bed last night.

Or, maybe “Mashantucket” is just an old Indian word for “mid-90s Black movie soundtrack”. Back in the day, that was the only way to see this much empty R&B all in one place. Fast forward to 2006 and the R&B industry is left with just Jagged Edge or any artist that’s had the words “G-Unit, featuring…” preceding their name in the past 52 weeks.

It’s kind of how the post-Evening Shade preserved remains of Burt Reynolds have been billed as “And Burt Reynolds” in all his movies I’ve seen since Striptease. I never understood this.

Are the producers singling him out for his 45 year run as an American acting icon or is this the equivalent of the “^” carrot symbol that’s used when we want to squeeze in an extra word on our third grade essays?

General Haberdashery: Mathan MIA Edition

For the first time since June 23, 2005, Mathan Erhardt has missed his weekly music column. That’s a streak of almost seven straight months featuring mirth, merriment and Math. A lot has happened with our staff in that time:

Shawn M. Smith made a logo for his SITASS column and negotiated an endorsement arrangement with his friends at Strattera. This week, he gets all “outdoor concert festival” on us, with a splash of metal and a properly italicized, all caps comment to those of you who plan to see the new Outkast movie.

Open Mike wrote one column in November and one in December, before resolving deciding to write more regularly this year. He’s got a classic up this week that teaches us all what it means to dream. “Oh, boy…sleep! That’s where I’m a Viking!” Man, I hope Mike watches The Simpsons.

Trevor returns! Back when Mathan still cared about his column, Trevor was nowhere to be found. And, now that Mathan is missing…wait a minute. Has anyone ever seen them in the same room? I mean “Presiloski” is as ethnic as “Erhardt”, isn’t it? While you wrap your minds around that, “Trevor” has a kick ass hockey intro and fat (not “phat”) pics of Sabrina, The Teenage Witch.

J.A.M. = the fourth in the line of short-lived novelty writing nicknames for a trio of Inside Pulse and 411 writers.

J is for Movie Joe Reid. This is officially “Reid Season”, people! He’s got nine ways for Fox to make him care about 24 (note: “kill off the Black people” came in at #10). Plus, an extended chat where he reveals the one Lea Thompson movie he hasn’t seen. For shame. The movie in question also stars Tate Donovan (the snaggletooth love interest of Sandra Bullock in Love Potion #9) and the gay guy from Revenge of the Nerds. Ooh, awkward segue…

It’s the annual Joe Reid Golden Globes Recap at The Film Experience! It’s a freakin’ brilliant take on the excess and extravagance…of Drew Barrymore’s boobs. Hell, it’s even got pictures of Drew’s funbags sans foundation undergarments. If Joe’s this catty now, wait until Oscar night! Watch out Joan and Melissa Rivers.

A is for me.

M is for TV Mathan. In this column, he mentioned that “Jack, Sawyer and Michael” didn’t annoy him in last week’s Lost. I’m guessing his opinion has taken a 180 since this week’s episode aired. God, I wanna punch those guys. Math also opines on white folk reading Ebony and Black men watching Desperate… ah, I’ve beat that joke into the ground. Go answer his last ever Question of the Week, won’t you?

Junk Mail

In last week’s mailbag, the readers were fooled by a faux photo of our own Joe Reid, this week…

Is that really a picture of Mathan (in last week’s column)? I thought he was the big Samoan looking brother passed out on the couch, since that’s the picture that you guys use to hype his column on the main page?

Keaya S.

Umm…well, let’s just say that one of the pictures isn’t actually Math and one of them doesn’t depict him, either. I’ll let you figure out which is which.

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And, does Mathan know he looks like Craig David?

Eric P.

Y’know…I’m pretty sure he’s mentioned the comparisons once or twice.

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LOVED Nick’s year-end wrap up with a good mix of the mainstream and the less-known. Before y’all close up the Bootleg, tell your boy he needs to drop his 2005 best-of mixtape on the readers. Hope you two will keep on contributing to IP after the goodness ends.

Christopher C.

Lots o’ love for Nick’s feature last week, although I will say that I copped one of the albums on his top 10 list about two weeks ago and didn’t like it as much as he did. Which is my subtle way of teasing my next review…next week!

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I wish you and Nick could’ve teamed up on the year-end thing, but I was glad to see Salemi lay out like he did. I was glad to see The Game make his list, since I agree that the potential for better things is there. Plus, the credit he gives Kanye, Common and Beans was all deserved. I’m holdin’ out for a few more weeks of you guys as we need one more co-production from y’all before this ends.

Jerrod S.

All you need to know about The Game is that Mrs. Bootleg now has his debut CD in her car stereo. And, last I checked, she’s still the primary chauffeur for Baby Bootleg. If only Jalen’s first words were “Compton, uhh…Dre found me in the sluuuuuums”…

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Cam…WHAT was with that picture of you (in last week’s column)? You’ve got that “runaway bride look” in your eyes, Aaron. And, I’m equally amazed at the eight different directions you’ve trained your eight different chin hairs to point. I could go on…from your pink ears to your little fake “soul patch” to the fact that you purposely kept your skinny little arms out of the frame. Hope you’ll be using your retirement to, y’know…eat something.

Oscar M.

Well, my readers had quite the laugh at my expense last week. All of you who wrote in to mock me are now disqualified from my contest. All of you! I’m kidding, but remember…words hurt. Words hurt.

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Dude … the t-shirt. So many directions I could go with this one. The first being that you really don’t have to recoil from the camera like that. It’s your friend! It’s probably more afraid of you than you are of it. Second of all, when did IP begin this policy of appeasing its most tolerated writers via apparel?

Movie Joe Reid

Doesn’t “apparel” imply plural? I signed the rights to my name, likeness and column over to Widro for just the one T-shirt. I mean…it’s got my name on it!

So, here’s the deal…one Bootleg reader will win an unopened, unused, brand spankin’ new iPod Nano. That’s 2GB, 500 songs, retail value $199. All you have to do is answer four questions, spread out over the next four weeks, relating to anything I’ve ever written in The Bootleg.

Continuing this week, I’m running a question in this space. Don’t send me the answer to this or any subsequent questions until all FOUR questions have been posted here! I don’t wanna hear from any of you until January 27, when the fourth n’ final question will appear.

On the 27th, you’ll all have a week to send in ALL the answers in ONE email. And, for kicks, each question will increase in “degree of difficulty” from week-to-week with one point assigned to week one’s question, two points for week two, etc.

The reader with the most points wins. Tiebreaker to be determined, if necessary. Inside Pulse writers ain’t eligible.

AND, I’m throwing in a limited-edition (cough) “I Read The Bootleg” T-Shirt to the winner, as well. Be the envy of no one, as our male model demonstrates, by telling everyone that you…read…me. Through the magic of our IP technology, the “read” sounds like present tense through February 10 and then changes to past tense (same spelling!) for every day, thereafter. On the back is one of my inappropriate quotes from an old column, which is guaranteed to offend. Yours will be different and less, um, “wordy”.

(Thanks to Widro, Matthew Michaels and their NY street corner connections for making my own T-Shirt a sweatshop reality…)

This Week’s Question…worth three points: In the first-ever MFWNTAK column, who was the only woman to appear among the top three nominees?

Week Two’s Question…worth two points: Name TWO living Black actresses who WEREN’T mentioned in me and Joe Reid’s Black Actress Survivor feature.

Week One’s Question…worth one point: What’s Baby Bootleg’s REAL first name?

Sorry for the column quality. 60 hours of work this week made for some great writer’s block. Get at me on Yahoo or AOL IM: ajcameron13.

Link: Official D.P.G. Site

The Inside Pulse:
Last spring, pretty much every West Coast rap act that’s ever made a record gathered together at the behest of Snoop Dogg and actor/comedian Steve Harvey. At this self-serving, urban radio sponsored, uh, “event”, all beefs, conflicts and disagreements between these artists were squashed, effective immediately. The indifference of listeners could be heard around the world, but one resulting peace treaty did make a few Hip Hop headlines, as the Dogg Pound reconciled their differences after three years apart. Delmar (Daz Dillinger) Arnaud and Ricardo (Kurupt a/k/a Young Gotti) Brown were first heard on Dr. Dre’s seminal Chronic album. From there, they dropped the controversial Dogg Food LP, which drew the ire of then-Presidential candidate Bob Dole and was a major part in Death Row Records’ highly-publicized split with Interscope. That album is considered a classic by some, but was actually an uneven and over-long effort that showed just how out of touch gangsta rap had gotten. So, a decade later, does anyone still wanna hear what the Dogg Pound (now D.P.G.) has to say?

Positives:
Even though Daz and Kurupt are now, officially, older than the real Dillinger and Gotti, they still display an undeniable degree of chemistry together. Tracks like DPGC Muzic play as well as it might’ve in their prime. In addition, Daz remains one of the more underrated producers out there, as the sonic characteristics of each track flow freely from the smooth and understated (Hittin’ Donutz…) to the rougher and edgier (Make Me A Believer).

Negatives:
This is essentially the follow-up to Dogg Food that the duo never released. The gangsta themes are interchangeable with everything else these two have ever released, together or apart. Seriously, how many derivatives of cuts like Cuz I’m a Gangsta are sitting on the Dogg Pound’s cutting room floor? And be warned…you’re only getting about 50 minutes of music with two inane skits included in the 14 tracks.

Cross-Breed:
This is the original Dogg Food album with heavy layers of inertia.

Reason to Buy:
Daz and Kurupt sound motivated and the beats are better than you’d probably expect. Only cop it if you were really longing for their reunion and/or still give their 1995 debut regular rotation in your stereo.

Link: Official Snoop Dogg Site

The Inside Pulse:
There’s an old sports cliché that says “great players are rarely great coaches”. The reason is obvious, as greatness can’t be taught to a team of players who are only average…it’s just something you’re born with, not something one becomes. Now, no one is saying that Snoop Dogg is a great rapper, but he has enjoyed more success on the mic than all but a handful of living or dead lyricists. Back in 1999, he parlayed his name into his own label, “Dogg House Records” (later rechristened “Doggystyle”, due to copyright concerns). The label has enjoyed mixed success over the years, with Snoop Dogg, himself, providing the big sales, and an ever-changing collection of understudies (most notably, The Eastsidaz) providing only occasional glimpses of retail brilliance. Snoop’s back at it with Welcome to Tha Chuuch: Da Album. He’s gone back to what he knows best and reunited his old Death Row Dogg Pound crew (Daz, Kurupt & Nate Dogg), along with handing out mic time to a handful of newcomers.

Positives:
Fans of the early Death Row Records days will be happy to know that acts like The Lady of Rage, Lil’ ½ Dead and, yes, RBX, are still alive. They’re all here and Rage even spits enough fire on Notorious DPG to make you think that she could still have a future…if she wasn’t already a grandmother. Among the new blood, Tiffany Foxx is the only one who shines here . She’s a clone of glorified rapping sex acts, like Trina or Lil’ Kim, but as a guilty pleasure, she’s tolerable on Shake That, which plays as a sequel to Drop It Like It’s Hot. She’s even better on Can’t Find My Panties, which is obviously empty calories for the ear, but so over-the-top and tongue-in-cheek, that it screams “single” and, at the very least, is an excellent strip club anthem.

Negatives:
There is nothing here that you haven’t heard before. Snoop Dogg rounds up the usual suspects for the generic cut We West Coast. All that’s missing is a Nate Dogg hook, which was apparently saved for the lead single Real Soon. It’s an awkward amalgam that ostensibly serves as a tribute to the late Stanley “Tookie” Williams, but the weird, bubbling beat effect hurts the message. The rest of the album is full of R&B efforts that range from awful to abominable.

Cross-Breed:
It’s the West Coast rap sound from 1998, mixed with the rap soundtrack blueprint from 1994.

Reason to Buy:
Just 13 tracks and less than 60 minutes of mediocre music for $15? Wow…this one’s for Snoop’s friends and family, only.

On February 10, The Bootleg column will come to an end after a three-year run, first on 411Mania and then here on Inside Pulse. And, I can’t think of any better way to say “thank you” to my readers than to offer up the biggest giveaway in Bootleg histo-ray. One lucky reader will win a brand-new Apple iPod! Details are at the bottom of The Goodness…along with info on a surprise SECOND prize for the lucky winner!

Welcome back to The Bootleg. I’m a few weeks late in mentioning this, but on December 29, after more than seven years of SL2 servitude and 85,000 miles, my 1998 Saturn was part of a four-cylinder slave trade(-in) for a brand-new car.

As you can imagine, from 1998 to 2006, there have been a lot of extra bells and whistles that improved upon my old car’s bones n’ gristle approach.

Cars now have power windows (pronounced “POW-urr”), which roll up and down at the same speed as the ol’ manual crank, but with the convenience of the car needing to be ON in order for them to, y’know…work. Also, car ashtrays are seemingly obsolete these days. And, where has technology flicked those carcinogenic sticks of death and all the flames they fan when disposed of improperly?

For those scoring at home, the answer is “outside”. And, I think we can all agree that random brush fires are infinitely easier to contain than those ubiquitous centimeter-in-circumference holes that lit cigarettes can create in a car’s seat.

Ah, but for the next five weeks, this is still a music column. (Yeah, I know, I know…but, the occasional insincere admission keeps The 8 Editors of Oa off my ass.) And, without a doubt, the greatest new car feature of them all is the nine months of no-cost Sirius Satellite Radio that came free with the “pretentious package”.

Easily the greatest invention in all of our lifetimes and I’ve had honey-mustard dipping sauce, mister.

Current pre-programmed, uh, programming includes “Backspin”, their version of old school non-stop Hip Hop. Lots and lots of ‘80 goodness, but a couple of points for any of their program directors: Run-DMC doesn’t have to played eight times an hour and when did anything from 1996 get consideration as “old school”?

Then, there’s “Shade 45″, which covers the current rap landscape and carries Eminem’s seal of approval. Your usual 50-60% unlistenable fare is found here and damned if I didn’t stumble across an inane morning show the other day, where listeners won prizes for answering questions about Marvin Gaye and Jim Morrison. On a “hardcore” Hip Hop station. Not many prizes being given out on that day.

Best of all, everyone gets to cuss. The DJs and the records they play, Howard Stern, hell, even the traffic station…“Them roads is jammed like a d*ck in yo’…”…well, you get the idea. And it’s all just as unnecessarily plentiful and gratuitous as the bad words (well, word) bandied about on The Boondocks.

What? Oh, right…I need an African-American entertainment reference that white folk actually watch. Y’all still buying those Chappelle Show DVDs? You know there are two of them. OK, I completely forgot where I was going with this.

Remember the Goodness…

The “Hip Hop Police” Strike Again!

Earlier this week, Roc-A-Fella recording artist Beanie Sigel was found guilty of misdemeanor assault. The conviction stemmed from a January 2003 altercation with a 53-year-old man named Wendell Mathis whom Sigel reportedly punched in the face after Beans called Mathis’ female acquaintance a “ho”.

Mathis suffered a broken left eye socket, while Sigel got off with two years probation and no jail time. So, let’s recap…Sigel insults some woman…then, breaks her man’s face…then, gets a slap on the wrist? I’m sorry, but I’m willing to bet that even Mathan can’t find a way to defend this.

Mathan!

Although, I do admit that I’m curious as to where on earth a grimy rapper, like Beans, can be found at the same place and at the same time as a man in his early-to-mid 50s, much less close enough to punch him. Let’s just hope that none of this occurred…in the club.

Speaking as a recent retiree of the regular evening scene, I can tell you there is no sadder sight than recently divorced, middle-aged African Americans at any after-hours spot. They’re not hard to spot, either, as their shiny white “church shoes” serve as rhythmic beacons in the event that the club owners kick on those superfluous dance floor fog machines.

In addition, their top 10-12 shirt buttons are always undone, with a corduroy Samuel L. Jackson hat (flipped to the back) to top off the ensemble. Y’know, come to think of it, these last few sentences describe Sam Jackson to a “T”, these days.

Will they ever find a cure for Formula 51? Well, I guess they did!

Remember, I’m The Man (You’re The Man!)

Last Saturday, pop-star Pink married her beau of four years, Carey Hart, at a small ceremony in Costa Rica. The pair met at the X Games back in 2001, as Hart, 30, is a professional motocross racer. A 30-year-old motocross racer? Yeah, you enjoy that extreme knee & hip replacement surgery in three years, Carey.

Hell, with that résumé, I’m surprised he even got permission from his mom to stay out late enough to get married, much less…in Hart’s words…”go fly-fly” to Costa Rica. Oh, I’m kidding…hey, it must be real work if you’re competing with 15 and 16-year-olds…kind of like “motocross” meets “all the applications for assistant manager at McDonald’s”.

Actually, in all seriousness, Carey Hart knows what he wants:

“We wanted it very fun and non-traditional. We’re spiritual, but we’re not religious.”

“Spiritual, but not religious”?…see, Carey, they call that “voodoo”. Although, that does explain away about 80% of Pink’s inexplicable success, so far. My favorite part of this story is that it was Pink who proposed to Hart last summer. For those of you still confused, Pink’s is ostensibly the woman in this relationship.

Now, personally, I think her man’s abject lack of testicles would offer him an unfair advantage, as the seats of most motocross bikes do batter a man’s balls.

But, then again, that never seemed to stop the asexual cyclist on the old Excitebike game.

“C’mon, Snipers…Where Are You?!”

Ever since Janet Jackson’s naked, veiny boob made its Super Bowl debut, the NFL and its broadcast affiliates have gone out of their way to ensure (heh) that the oldest, whitest and most non-threatening acts grace viewers around the globe at the Super Bowl Halftime show.

Last year, Sir Paul McCartney dusted off his milquetoast style and sanctimonious sound for the fifteen minute intermission, while this year, The Rolling Stones corpse their way into Detroit’s Ford Field for the big event. But, alas…there’s controversy afoot! (And, I don’t mean gout…)

Y’see, as part of these annually contrived concerts, the NFL plants a few thousand “fans” up front, right next to the stage and always on camera. Their sole roles are to dance (badly), look young and manufacture a multi-racial 6-to-16 demographic that doesn’t exist.

Well, The Stones have more of an octogenarian appeal, so imagine the stewed prunes-like shock to their collective systems (the parts their strokes didn’t get to first) when the NFL informed ticket holders that they’d have to be 45 years of age or under to get admitted on field and/or stand adjacent to the stage.

The League actually cited “insurance liabilities” as their explanation, before backing down at the behest of The Stones, themselves.

So, we’ve got a field full of un-chaperoned senior citizens…in the heart of downtown Detroit…at night. And, they’re almost all white? Could someone please tell ABC to keep their cameras on these geezers after the game?

The sight of 2,000 senior citizens crossing the street, simultaneously, to avoid “the Black people” can’t only be comedy to me.

I Ain’t Sayin’ She a Gold Digger…

We’re only a month away from Valentine’s Day and two of music’s biggest names have already gotten a head start on the Hallmark-made holiday.

First up is Anthony Kiedis…now it only seems like it’s been 19 years since Red Hot Chili Peppers were relevant, but Kiedis, 43 (seriously, that’s his real age) is celebrating the occasion with his new 19-year-old slice of ass, by the name of Jessica Stam.

She’s apparently a model (aren’t they all at that age?) with H&M and Versace on her résumé, along with a brief fling with Harrison Ford(’s son) on her line of credit with MasterCard’s StarF*ck Rewards Program.

Meanwhile, Usher, who inherited the crown of Michael Jackson’s mini-me from Alfonso Ribeiro (who reigned from 1982 to about 20 minutes ago) has hooked up with his stylist, Tameka Foster-Brown.

Wait a minute…is that a hyphen? Those of you around in 1992, might remember that brief six-week stretch when married women employed the “hyphen” in a Murphy Brown-powered attempt to maintain their “womaninity”. Ironically enough, you can’t spell “hear me roar”, without “H-O”, as ol’ Tameka has reportedly left her husband and three kids to kick it with Usher down in the Caribbean (Cool).

Now, I don’t wanna say that we all should’ve seen this coming, but I’m told that, as Usher’s stylist, Tameka was always available at his scheduled appointment time. (Trust me, it’s funny…have your Black friends Black friend explain it to you.)

Sometimes the News Just Writes Itself

About a year ago, The Bootleg took a look at the phenomenon of Black comedians who successfully crossover, only to be eventually rejected by the same suburban audiences who embraced them in the first place.

Most recently, there was Chris Rock, who rode “the big piece of chicken” and a side of “tossed salad” from the stand-up circuit into superstardom. Which, of course, led to a cinematic assault on audiences (Head of State, Pootie Tang and The Movie He Did with Anthony Hopkins) that dropped Rock’s stock so far, I’m told the final season of In Living Color wouldn’t have taken him back.

All of which is my long-winded way of wondering if the same standards apply for white crossover comedians?

From “the news I was better off not knowing” dept: Canadian comic Tom Green released a rap album earlier this month. Well, now, ain’t that the apocalypse? And recently, while shooting…aw, c’mon…a video(?) in Las Vegas, Green crossed paths with former Geto Boys mascot Bushwick Bill, who just happened to be at the exact same Fatburger restaurant where the filming was going down.

And, Bill even took time out from his gig as the urinal mint dispenser, to listen to some of Green’s work and offer up his support. OK…I just can’t type any more on this. All I ask is that if Bushwick Bill is offering up music industry advice, then Tom Green should use his movie pull (chuckle) to line up the sequel to Bill’s last role.

Nick’a Please
conceptualized by Nick Salemi

2005 was a pretty decent year for Hip Hop albums, although the genre as a whole didn’t look so great. Many of my favorite albums from last year flew under the Soundscan radar. The year really started off great and was pretty solid but, surprisingly bombed once the summer ended. Yeah there are a few discs I didn’t pick up that could be listed but hey, there’s only so much room.

So about 3 weeks too late, here’s my 2005 top 10.

Little Brother…The Minstrel Show
Hands down the disc of the year. Lyrics, beats, originality. concepts. What else do you want?

Common…Be
Pretty close to perfection on this short album, as there wasn’t much I didn’t like about it save for one song.

Sean Price…Monkey Barz
Sean P’s first solo effort was solid after an eternity away from the game since the last Heltah Skeltah album.

Kanye West…Late Registration
A great follow up to a great debut, personality aside. He major.

The Game…The Documentary
Behind all the drama, bullsh*t with his label and multiple references to other rappers on this disc, there’s a pretty skilled rapper in there somewhere. Let’s hope his next disc shows it more.

Beanie Sigel…The B Coming
Beans dropped a quality album while locked up and Rocafella, as we knew it, was crumbling and still came strong.

Danger Doom…The Mouse and the Mask
MF Doom and Dangermouse combined to bring a short, TV-tie in album. I appreciated the Hip Hop, not so much the cartoons. But hey that’s just me.

Buckshot & 9th Wonder…Chemistry
Maybe too much hype, maybe recorded in too little time. Chemistry wasn’t as bangin as everyone hoped it would be, but still one of the better releases.

AZ…AWOL
If for no other reasons, get it to hear The Come Up produced by Premier and The Magic Hour featuring CL Smooth. Decidedly old school. Warning: You’ll be pleasantly surprised by the rest of the disc, too.

Wildcard
As for the 10th and final slot, I really liked certain songs from Young Jeezy, Julez Santana, Sheek Louch and Memphis Bleek, just not their whole albums. So I’m taking the low road and lumping all four together. I mean they are pretty similar, no?

DVD Extras:

The Notorious BIG…Duets
I got BIG’s Duets disc the day it dropped. I had previously heard the song with Bob Marley and thought it was OK, although the beat sounds awfully similar to the one from Runnin’ (Dyin to Live). I liked the beat and the verses from BIG and Pun on Get Your Grind On. That’s about it. Being what Aaron J calls a “BIG completionist”, I already have every BIG track, freestyle, etc. known to man, so I knew I wasn’t getting anything new, and didn’t expect much. However, nothing could have prepared me for how awful this disc was. I can’t in good conscience give this CD a full-length review as it’s so terrible, and I don’t bother trashing CDs in reviews. It’s not BIG’s fault, he was a talented dude who is sorely missed. But enough is enough.

What it did make me do is think about what in the hell is going on in Hip Hop. It can’t be good for Hip Hop if people (including me) were pining for another album from BIG, KNOWING that there is nothing new on the album. Sadly, he’s been gone for almost nine years. I know it’s been written about, but two of Hip Hop’s biggest and most talented stars were killed within six months of each other. I don’t think Hip Hop has ever recovered from it and maybe rightfully so.

Not only did they die at the peak of their career (and BIG was still on the rise) but the murders are still unsolved, leaving no sense of closure. BIG and Pac should be remembered and people should still bang their music. But Hip Hop should really move on. I don’t mean move on in the “record label way” which is to find the “next” BIG and Pac, just move on period. Their record labels have been able to draw blood from a stone more than anyone thought. That’s not a good thing. Enough already. Let them rest in peace.

That being said, it’s not my intention to leave people with a bad taste in their mouths…there are plenty of young artists out there waiting to blow up. There’s one out there I really hope gets that chance:

Papoose
Papoose has been bubbling for around a year or so on Kay Slay’s Streetsweepers mixtape series. His mixtapes are surprisingly free of the Drama King screaming over them. Pap is lyrical, has a sick flow (he sounds like he could literally rap forever) is creative and innovative as far as the topics and concepts he picks on many of his songs. It’s not all the same money, cash, hoes sh*t over and over again. I only fear that record labels won’t know what to do with him and he repeatedly states he’s not compromising himself to sign a deal and make records someone else wants. Not since 50 Cent in 2002 has someone blazed the mixtape circuit quite like this.

Menace to Society Part II
The latest mixtape to drop from Papoose is pretty nice. It’s actually sad that it has more of a theme and concept than most commercial albums out there. In addition it’s also BETTER than most albums that are out there right now. I won’t spoil it for you but the concept of the title track is some pretty creative sh*t. Some of the tracks are Pap rapping over recognizable beats from other artists but the guy instantly makes them his own. Raised with Them Gangstas featuring the LOX, Black Rob and McGruff will take you back and forward at the same time. Street Rules is pretty hot and features a BIG sample that the track listing does NOT conjure into a “featuring the Notorious BIG”. The Beast featuring Talib Kweli also appeared on Kweli’s own mixtape but has a thumping beat to go with both artists’ slick verses.

Unfinished Business…The Best of Papoose
For those who haven’t heard much from him, this is a pretty decent mix of the slew of songs from the underground mixtape “albums” he dropped last year and will bring you up to speed pretty fast. He shows “yall how to rap over a James Brown sample” on Born in NYC, talks real about Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath on Mother Nature, raps from the view of he Hip Hop police on the hit Sharades and absolutely kills the mic on Monopoly, Chess and Black Girl Lost 2005. Unfinished Business boasts collaborations with almost EVERYONE including Prodigy, Mike Jones, Ghostface, Nas and will force emcees to step up all facets of their game in 2006.

General Haberdashery

Dammit, we’ve got four more Bootlegs after this week. Someone should tell my IP peers if they wanna get mentioned in the obligatory “giving thanks” segment in my last column, they’d better make with the columns. We don’t reward “sloth” here, kids…didn’t you see Seven?

Mathan has an…uh, interesting column up. Hey, for kicks, read it while replacing “Cameron Giles” with “Aaron Cameron” and replace “Mason Betha” with “Nick Salemi”. Then, replace, “Horse & Carriage” with “Bootleg” and replace “NYC” with “Sheboygan, Wisconsin”. BTW, I thought Tupac was the first cat to turn beef into a marketing gimmick and not 50 Cent? Sorry, I’m rambling…but, what do you expect when Math reveals the one song that got his 6′5″ 159 lb. frame on the dance floor? Craig David can step!

Open Mike returns with some plates of beef. It’s Hip Hop feuds that you probably didn’t know about in this edition of the Freakloud. Sadly, he doesn’t cover Lil’ Kim vs. Foxy Brown or Dr. Dre vs. Jermaine Dupri. Well, maybe in his next column…scheduled to drop, by the way, this May.

J.A.M. = the fourth in the line of short-lived novelty writing nicknames for a trio of Inside Pulse and 411 writers.

J is for Movie Joe Reid. Updates! Joe skewers the Critics’ Choice Awards, including shots at host Dennis Miller and overrated flicks March of the Penguins and Crash. Find out again, why Joe’s the only Movie Guy we endorse on these pages…oh, and find out what he really looks like. Mrs. Bootleg says, “Vince Vaughn”. I don’t see it, but it’s late and I’m desperate for material.

And, look…Joe’s got the new stuff over at The Film Experience. He lays out the 25 Most Anticipated Movies in 2006. I can’t reprint the whole list here, but #21 is Running with Scissors, #14 is V for Vendetta, # 7 is The Prestige and, among the top FIVE, is a movie starring…The Rock?! I am not making this up. And, it’s NOT that movie he’s doing with Xzibit called The Gridiron Gang or, as I call it, Pimp My $8 Million Opening Weekend.

A is for me.

M is for TV Mathan. In a departure of sorts from his usual “I hate Desperate Housewives, but I can’t stop watching it every week…twice” approach, Math explores the criminal underbelly of the animation industry. Next week, he’d better get to the bottom of Cartoon Network’s cancellation of Teen Titans and Justice League Unlimited. I’d type more, but I need to write my congressman.

Junk Mail

Just wanted to take a minute to thank all y’all for the emails and IMs this past week. I promise to get gushier when the final column comes, so stick around for that. In the meantime, let’s see if there’s any mail that doesn’t end with the words “…where the good Lord split you.”

Hold on, Cam. That was a joke, right? Tell me that the picture you ran (last week) wasn’t really Joe Reid? Wow. He is…uh, not a handsome man. Tell me he doesn’t look like Robson from “The Brotherhood” in Oz? I’m have no idea why this news is so disappointing to me.

Michael J.

HAW! How in God’s name did I miss the Robson reference?! “Joe Reid” does look like our favorite second-in-command skinhead (we would’ve also accepted “Starscream Nazi”). OK, OK…one more on “Joe”:

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THAT’S Joe Reid? Holy sh*t! I haven’t seen a gum-to-teeth ratio like that since “Corky” on “Life Goes On”. And, where in the hell did he find that shiny-ass tie to put over that $8 oxford shirt? Jesus, did he make the moves on Mrs. Bootleg or something? Seems like a cold, cold way to get even.

Eddie S.

Well, truth be told…the REAL Joe Reid isn’t the one whose picture ran in this space last week. Still, the fact that so many of my readers were so ready to rip into his appearance at the drop of a hat…makes me so damn proud. God bless all of you. Every one.

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You’ve giving away an iPod? Not that I doubt you, but is this one of those pieces of equipment that a brutha down at your barbershop sells you out of the back of his car? Or is Widro actually dipping into the petty cash fund to commemorate your going away party?

Kenny B.

Dammit, people…more than a few of you asked similar “where’s this alleged iPod coming from” questions. Answer: straight from the Apple website to YOUR home. And, yes, I’m paying for it with the magic of MasterCard. Christ, can’t I say THANK YOU for three years of loyal readership?! Can’t I?!

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GREAT review of the new Biggie album. It was easily the worst thing I’ve picked up in a long time and I’m glad that you showed no mercy. I hope that the end of The Goodness doesn’t mean you’ll stop doing CD reviews for the site. It’s not that I don’t like (IP writer and musical genre deleted) reviews, but I don’t.

Andy M.

Hey, hey, hey…no bashing of my peers, mister. Although, here’s something else we agree on, Andy…that B.I.G. Duets album was absolute ass. I can count the number of times that I was pissed off at myself for buying a bad album on one hand, but this was the first time since the days when a CD purchase was 10-20% of my paycheck.

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You asked for input from female readers on whether or not we say “boobies”? Well, I know that I do. But, I am coming from small town Middle America perspective. “Boobies” just sounds like something that goes with “soda pop” and “bubbler”.

Michelle F.

What the hell is a “bubbler”?

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Hey, Aaron…I’m one of your four female fans and I can honestly say that “titties” is our slang of choice for “breasts”. Aren’t you married? You’d think that you could just ask Mrs. Bootleg and I’m sure she’d tell you the same thing.

Katina A.

If the word “titties” ever came outta my wife’s mouth, I don’t think I’d ever wanna hear the word again. She’s already ruined words like “Oprah”, for me.

So, here’s the deal…one Bootleg reader will win an unopened, unused, brand spankin’ new iPod Nano. That’s 2GB, 500 songs, retail value $199. All you have to do is answer four questions, spread out over the next four weeks, relating to anything I’ve ever written in The Bootleg.

Continuing this week, I’m running a question in this space. Don’t send me the answer to this or any subsequent questions until all FOUR questions have been posted here! I don’t wanna hear from any of you until January 27, when the fourth n’ final question will appear.

On the 27th, you’ll all have a week to send in ALL the answers in ONE email. And, for kicks, each question will increase in “degree of difficulty” from week-to-week with one point assigned to week one’s question, two points for week two, etc.

The reader with the most points wins. Tiebreaker to be determined, if necessary. Inside Pulse writers ain’t eligible.

AND, I’m throwing in a limited-edition (cough) “I Read The Bootleg” T-Shirt to the winner, as well. Be the envy of no one, as our male model demonstrates, by telling everyone that you…read…me. Through the magic of our IP technology, the “read” sounds like present tense through February 10 and then changes to past tense (same spelling!) for every day, thereafter. On the back is one of my inappropriate quotes from an old column, which is guaranteed to offend. Yours will be different and less, um, “wordy”.

(Thanks to Widro, Matthew Michaels and their NY street corner connections for making my own T-Shirt a sweatshop reality…)

This week’s question…worth two points: Name TWO living Black actresses who WEREN’T mentioned in me and Joe Reid’s Black Actress Survivor feature.

Week One’s Question…worth one point: What’s Baby Bootleg’s REAL first name?

Warning: Bootleg T’s lead to receding hairlines that even visors can’t hide. Get at me on Yahoo or AOL IM: ajcameron13.

Link: Official Bad Boy Records Site

The Inside Pulse:
As of this writing, we’re nearing the nine-year anniversary of Christopher (B.I.G.) Wallace’s death. During that time, Biggie’s reputation as an MC has taken on a posthumously odd, reverse roller-coaster quality highlighted by a rapid ascent followed by a strange, slow descent into…well, into this. When Biggie’s Life After Death dropped on March 25, 1997, critics were lining up to lay their overrated praise like flowers at B.I.G.’s grave. The makings of a great album were in there, somewhere…buried under the bloated, arrogant excess of 30 tracks, spotty production and a voice that effortlessly floated from “street” to “self-parody”. While Biggie’s 1994 Ready to Die debut was able to convey fear and loathing and paranoia with subtle undertones, Life After Death was, at times, a suffocating listen with several tracks that collapsed under every contrived dirge. Still, Biggie’s skills and charisma are undeniable. Unfortunately, neither came through in his 1999 Born Again release, which was an egregiously empty attempt to follow the Tupac path to “cash after death”. With Duets, Bad Boy Records is attempting to get it right this time around. Let’s hope this is The Final Chapter.

Positives:
Duets, like Born Again, attempts to pair random Biggie verses (both established and outtakes) with the hottest Hip Hop stars of the hour. Executive producer Sean (Diddy) Combs gathers an A-list of artists, including Jay-Z, Snoop Dogg, Eminem, Tupac, Nas and Bob Marley for the affair. Most of them do seem energized and enthusiastic, even if the end result is ultimately uninspired.

Negatives:
Quite simply, this is not a Biggie album. How can it be, when he’s not even on tracks like the awful Eminem-produced It Has Been Said or the Lil’ Wayne/Juelz Santana-assisted I’m With Whateva? Incorporating B.I.G’s ubiquitous “uhh’s” every six seconds just isn’t enough for most ears. And, when Biggie is on, you’re left wishing he wasn’t. His Notorious Thugs gem has been butchered and rechristened Spit Your Game with Twista left stranded where Bone Thugs-N-Harmony once stood. 1970 Somethin’ takes Biggie’s verse from 1994’s underrated Respect and waters it down into irrelevance. Hold Ya Head brings in Bob Marley, but the beat is only generically ominous. And, on an album full missteps, the attempt to reinvent the classic What’s Beef is this close to criminal.

Cross-Breed:
Take the worst of Hip Hop’s posthumous products…and add Diddy’s own egocentricity.

Reason to Buy:
There isn’t one. Biggie completionists already have his best work, which has been cut and pasted into this…the worst release of 2005. An absolute embarrassment for all involved, this should be the album that retires the posthumous Hip Hop genre, once and for all.

On February 10, The Bootleg column will come to an end after a three-year run, first on 411Mania and then here on Inside Pulse. And, I can’t think of any better way to say “thank you” to my readers than to offer up the biggest giveaway in Bootleg histo-ray. Details are buried at the bottom of The Goodness…no scrolling ahead.

Welcome back to The Bootleg. I’m glad that I could actually make this week’s column, since I’ve been secretly spending the last month or so conspiring with the Blacks, the Jews and the U.S. Government to replace “Merry Christmas” with “Happy Holidays” in traditionally holy enclaves like…the mall.

Hopefully, everyone had a great, um, “end of December celebration”, be they Christian, Jew or…”miscellaneous”.

Does everyone remember how on Christmas morning…for your first few years…all of your toys were magically assembled and glistening alongside the tree’s aluminum tinsel?

Well, what none of us knew is that it ain’t Santa Claus and/or some cheap Mexican-elfin day-laborers putting these red wagons and tot rods together. Apparently, that’s all part and parcel with parental responsibilities. Christ…first I learn I have to come home at night, now this.

And, do y’all know what the latest trend in assembly instructions for a toddler’s toy is? That’s right…no words.

Everything is “written” with pictures only. Imagine two dozen frames in which a pair of white hands follows an array of arrows, along with images of unfamiliar tools and screws that all seem to fit together perfectly on paper.

Now, imagine my son’s Red Rocket Racer, built by my hands, with the steering wheel stuck in a perpetual left turn. American-made, indeed. Although, now that I think about it, that’s pretty much Danica Patrick complete job qualifications and she’s rich n’ famous despite the absence of even a partially developed upper lip.

It was still a good holiday, anyways.

Mother Nature gave us one of those patented 75 degree, San Diego Christmas Days. Y’know, the kind that everyone in the Midwest and on the East Coast mocks us for and then wishes they had when it’s still snowing in April. Back there, “April” is the month before their two weeks of “spring”, followed by six months of the next season: “humidity”.

Oh, I’m kidding, rest of the country, I’m kidding… In fact, for the rest of this column, I’m letting my son take over my non-music intro mocking of you people:

The Goodness is the antithesis of a White Christmas.

“My Ly-berry Cards Finna Change Into Credit Cards”

You know we must be approaching Super Bowl Week here in The States, when this is considered “news”.

Dateline: Detroit… Have you ever wondered what would happen if the irresistible hype machine of Hip Hop met the immovable hype machine of pro football’s superfluous seven days of season-ending celebrations? In a breaking news exclusive, our friends at SOHH.com have learned that rapper Jay-Z has been denied access to the Detroit Public Library.

And, my, what high standards those must be. Where else can one flip through the last 12 months of Jet Magazine on microfiche?

Now, I’m not saying that the Motor City is known more for “litter” than “literati”, but Jay-Z’s application for a library card was actually an attempt to use the venue for a Super Bowl party. In a public library. And, according to city officials, the reason Jigga was denied access was due to the fact that he didn’t file the proper permits and insurance forms in time.

So, if the paperwork was filed promptly…ah, you know what…I’d rather not think about it. Let’s just say…your city’s probably a lil’ “ghetto” if your public library is like one of those restaurants that converts into a club at sundown.

Hell, at least if the city converted their courthouse, 80% of the attendees could just hang around until their inevitable arraignments the following Monday.

Can We All Agree That This is a Victimless Crime?

Now, here’s a Detroit story that makes more sense.

Eminem protégé, Obie Trice, was shot in the face early last Saturday morning in what’s being described as a possible road rage incident. The shooting occurred on the Lodge Freeway just outside of Detroit, as Trice was behind the wheel of his sports utility vehicle with his girlfriend riding…shotgun.

Nothing?

Well, I’d like to see you try to find the funny in a week-old story like this.

And, no fair pointing out that Obie only survived because he was probably shot in the vicinity of his thick-ass lips, um…”strong Afrocentric features“.

Anyways, a few days later, Trice went on Sirius Satellite radio and blamed the shooting on (wait for it) “haters”, who were jealous of the success of Shady Records and their artists. Oh yeah, I can see that. It’s the dead of night on a Saturday in suburban Detroit and look…there’s a brutha driving a tricked out SUV. Such a rare sight (especially in this city) can only mean one thing: it’s Obie F*ckin’ Trice.

Hey, let’s shoot him for all that success he’s enjoyed since Got Some Teeth was hot for two weeks in 2003.

Is there anyone who could even pick Obie Trice out of a police lineup? Ah, the year’s still young…I’m sure we’ll all find out the answer, soon enough.

She’s the Same Woman Who Gave the World Taxi and Beauty Shop

Those of you who have never been to Hollywood, California might want to save this item in the event that you ever get bitten by the tourist’s urge.

Most of you are still being sold on the city’s century-old utopian reputation when, in reality, Hollywood’s current claim to fame is combining “soulless urban sprawl” with “homeless urine smell”. And, no place else is this city’s myth more exposed than on the “Hollywood Walk of Fame”.

Two days ago, Queen Latifah became the 2,298th celebrity to be presented with a star. By itself, that would be surprising enough, until one reads the list of scheduled stars to be awarded throughout the remainder of ‘06: Isaac Hayes…Matthew Broderick…Steve Martin?!

Now, I know that the Walk of Fame is nothing but a publicity sham used by studios and publicists to hype the recipient’s new projects…but, come on. There’s something wrong with Queen Latifah getting a star before a man who has affected five decades of music like Isaac Hayes or a man who’s arguably the greatest comic actor of the last 25 years like Steve Martin or even the wee man-boy who played Ferris Bueller with a youthful zest that belied his actual age of 45.

Speaking of which, what are the odds of Matthew Broderick getting cast alongside the 1986 version of Jennifer Grey and, nearly two decades later, marrying Sarah Jessica Parker?

Such a coincidence of equine bloodlines hasn’t been seen since Man O’ War sired the racehorse that sired Seabiscuit almost eighty years ago.

Ah, Kim…I’ll Miss You Most of All

Philadelphia residents were treated to free food, live music and toy giveaways as a part of the first annual “Lil’ Kim Cares Christmas Party”. Close to 1,500 of Philly’s underclass (read: “unemployed”) came with their hands held out, in search of something for nothing.

The event was sponsored by Kim’s non-profit organization in a transparent attempt to curry favor with the prison review board in hopes that she’ll be released early from her 366-day sentence. OK, OK…that’s the cynic in me talking. Besides, she only has to stay in the clink for six more weeks to suit me.

What I’d like to know is just who are these “poor and unfortunate” souls who get all the charity at Christmas?

When my brother and I were eight years old, our combined Christmas gifts were a die-cast metal Dukes of Hazard car that was about as big as a bottle of water, a box of Legos and a Chinese checkers set.

That was it. Gifts so sh*tty that even our parents didn’t want to play with us. And, considering they barely had to break a $10 bill, you’d think we’d at least get a pity play or two. Did they just not have these free giveaways in the ’80s or is it just obligatory for every Black childhood flashback to include scenes of Deep South segregation, attack dogs and/or no Nintendo up under the tree?

Hey, my parents suffered in their way and I suffered in mine.

A Fred Durst Joint

The following story may just be what it takes to get Jeff Fernandez’s head to explode.

Lead Bizkit, Fred Durst, is making the media rounds in an attempt to be taken seriously as a feature film director. He reportedly is in line to direct a pair of flicks (Life Without Joe and Runt) which will almost assuredly be on a Blockbuster video shelf before you finish this sentence.

But, Fred ain’t stoppin’ there, as he claims this career change has been more than five years in the making:

“While the band was taking off, I was trying to have meetings with movie people and all Limp Bizkit being successful did was hurt me and get in the way of the movie business.”

Well said, Fred. Limp Bizkit actually hurt a lot of us, too, but you don’t see any of us lining up to work with acclaimed straight-to-video acts like Julia Roberts’ brother or Shelton Benjamin’s mother. Continuing…

“They don’t take music people seriously. They’ll take you serious if they wanna throw you in a film and let you be an actor and cash in on your success while you’re hot, and that’s not what I wanted to do.”

Oooh…Ja Rule is SO going to shoot you for that one. And, look…he brought a friend.

More from Fred:

“I was offered all kinds of cheesy movies that were really successful to direct and I was like, ‘I’m not here to make movies like that.’ I want to make timeless movies. I want to be beside Martin Scorsese and Wes Anderson and Paul Thomas Anderson and Francis Ford Coppola.

I’m a real director.”

This, quite simply, is the greatest quote in Bootleg history. I literally have too much to work with here. Imagine those four names read aloud on Oscar night, with “Fred Durst” thrown in, at the end, as the fifth nominee. I’ll take back everything I said about you, Hollywood, if someone can make this happen.

Just promise me that I can be the one to get Spike Lee’s reaction at the after-party.

Sometimes the News Just Writes Itself: NWS/NSFW Edition

I’m seriously beginning to think that Playboy magazine is becoming the New York Yankees of adult entertainment. Why is it that every big-name celebrity they sign is already in their late 30’s and past their prime?

Depending on whom you believe, R&B diva Toni Braxton is close to an agreement that will see her featured in a spread this summer. However, while the 37-year-old Braxton could soon be taking it off…don’t expect her to take it all off:

“I just can’t do the bottom thing because that’s really, really intimate and really personal. But boobies, what is it? A dime a dozen. You can buy some for $5,000. Who cares? But the thing down there, you can’t really buy that.”

Nah…too easy.

But, I do wanna ask my women readers something: do you guys really call your breasts “boobies” amongst yourselves or is this one of those chick myths like women wandering around topless in gym locker rooms (as seen in Porky’s, Road Trip, et al.)? And, where is this wonderful wholesale warehouse where boobies are ten cents for twelve?

Do they have a comparable discount table that features, um, slightly irregular merchandise? I’ll take three Kate Beckinsale…three Catherine Bosleys…um, five Lil Kims…and, one of those coconut-covered donuts that always end up in a dozen, but that no one ever eats.

General Haberdashery

OK, where the hell is everybody? I’m down to pimping the four faces of Mathan, people. And, at this point, even the other three wanna kill off Moodspins Math.

Mathan does have a nice little follow-up to his original top ten of 2005 column by writing up on his next 10 of 2005. Does anyone remember when ALL of Math’s music columns were lists of some sort? Is this, like, full circle or something? Which, of course, is not to be confused with Family Circus. “Who ate all the ice cream?” “Not me!”

And, since none of my peers love you enough to keep their weekly commitments (comically shakes fist), I guess you’ll to sit through more from my family album:

J.A.M. = the fourth in the line of short-lived novelty writing nicknames for a trio of Inside Pulse and 411 writers.

J is for Movie Joe Reid. Joe…hasn’t updated his blog. For the entire week? Should we be worried? After all, during his last six months on 411, he posted, like, three columns. It’s no secret that he stopped writing over there because of his disdain for PHIL WATTS and his reading audience-at-large.

But, I’m sure Joe has newness over at The Film Experience. Nothing there, either? In fact, it’s still his December 22 column? Well, I know he’s alive, because we chatted on IM earlier this week and laid the groundwork for our greatest Bootleg co-production ever. In fact, he forwarded the online bio from his new job. And, yes, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t bragging.

A is for me.

M is for TV Mathan. Math hits home with the last Remote Destination of 2005, as I’ve been sucking up The Simpsons DVDs almost always on the day they’re released, while Six Feet Under was one of Mrs. Bootleg favorite shows. Oddly enough, of the seven Simpsons season sets I’ve purchased, three of ‘em remain unopened. Hmm…if I ever get some free time, say on Thursday nights, I’ll have to crack ‘em open.

Junk Mail

It’s good to know that so many people got through to this site during the last week or so of intermittent server crashes and the brief stretches where the chain on Widro’s stationary bicycle generator fell off:

Happy New Year to you, Nick, Joe, Mrs. Bootleg, Kid Bootleg and any Bootleg I forgot. Nicely done on the pat yourself on the back “best of the bootleg” column and the best/worst in Hip Hop for ‘05. Personally, I would’ve given Kanye the “album of the year” nod, just because it’s riskier and still raises the bar that College Dropout already set so damn high. As for worst album of the year, you obviously gave the nod to 50 before you heard (album title deleted)…

E.P.

Sorry for the self-editing, there. But, on your final point, I agree with you. With just 10 days to go in ‘05, I picked up the true worst album of the year. I’ll have a review of it completed this weekend. Look for it next week.

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C’mon, Cam…no Nick in the best/worst Hip Hop piece!?! Reading the two of you sh*tting on stuff in Mystery Science Theater style was the highlight of last year’s feature for me. Besides, how could you not at least hand out dishonorable mentions to for Worst Single of the Year to that Fat Joe and Nelly mess, Get it Poppin or 50’s Candy Shop? And, don’t get me started on Trina’s “Here We Go”

A.S.

Nice. Good call on Here We Go, which is even getting airplay out here in Cali and we have never been on Trina’s cooch on this side of the country. But, speaking of bad music out west…

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Aiight, ajc, I’m gonna say it…that Warren G. cut called Get U Down is absolute ass but is ALWAYS on Power 106, 100.3 The Beat and even the new KDAY. I know that he’s your boy, but it’s time for him to find a nice cool corner of the Hip Hop crypt next to Skee-Lo and Domino and just go away.

M.S.

Just ignore them, Warren. Just ignore them all.

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You’re going to completely skip what has to be the most ridiculous song of all time? I turn on VH1 the other day and end up rewinding the video 3 times, then calling in the wife to air it a 4th because I could not comprehend what I was looking at: an entire song devoted to the worship of having precious metals and jewels instead of the good calcium the lord gave you. And I determined that this song, “Grillz” by name, was so insipid and stupid that it would become the biggest track on air for like 4 months and I could not escape it. Just like “In Da Club” two years ago, a time that nearly destroyed my soul. And sure enough, it’s #1 on the Billboards R&B/Hip Hop charts.

M.M.

YES! I mean, how can you not love that hook: “Rob a jewelry store and tell ‘em make me a grill”. Thank you, Paul Wall. Thank you, Nelly. Thank you both.

Goodbye Giveaway: The Details

Damn it, I said no scrolling ahead. Anyway, here’s the deal…one Bootleg reader will win an unopened, unused, brand spankin’ new iPod Nano. That’s 2GB, 500 songs, retail value $199. All you have to do is answer four questions, spread out over the next four weeks, relating to anything I’ve ever written in The Bootleg.

Starting this week, I’ll run a question in this space. Don’t send me the answer to this or any subsequent questions until all FOUR questions have been posted here! I don’t wanna hear from any of you until January 27, when the fourth n’ final question will appear.

On the 27th, you’ll all have a week to send in ALL the answers in ONE email. And, for kicks, each question will increase in “degree of difficulty” from week-to-week with one point assigned to week one’s question, two points for week two, etc.

The reader with the most points wins. Tiebreaker to be determined, if necessary. Inside Pulse writers ain’t eligible.

This week’s question…worth one point: What’s Baby Bootleg’s REAL first name?

I’m Tha Bootlegman…and I’m comin’ to get’cha! Get at me on Yahoo or AOL IM: ajcameron13.