Meet My Links - Machine Gun Funk

By now, y'all know that "General Haberdashery" = "recommended reading". Two weeks ago, I pimped the degenerates at Fire Joe Morgan. Last week, it was Low Resolution, which is run by singular lowlife, Joe Reid. Today, I continue the theme of gently mocking my former co-writers with a look at my brothers in funk.

Machine Gun Funk

Synopsis: "Machine Gun Funk is equal parts irreverent and brash...passionate and unpretentious. The eclectic voices heard on MGF focus on music through skewed and slightly cracked glasses. (Their) opinions are loud and (their) biases are even louder. The absurd is mockingly celebrated, while the status quo has to withstand the scrutiny of MGF's unique point of view. No genre is safe. No artist is immune. And, the music industry is officially on notice." –from the MGF Mission Statement. It's not plagiarism since I wrote the damn thing.

Positives: Featuring affirmatively action-packed writing and a distinct collection of voices unlike any others at Inside Pulse (read: minorities, militant), MGF is where you'll find some of the best music writing around, including three Music Writer of the Year Award Winners amongst those that have passed thru their hallowed halls. You'll have to check the archives to read "That Guy's" work, though. Jeff Fernandez invented a new day to bring the weekly ridiculousness. Mathan Erhardt covers the unreleased, the overlooked and the occasional stream of consciousness column. Meanwhile, Married Mike Eagle lectures like a young curmudgeon…but with a heart of gold.

Negatives: MGF apparently replaced me with "Bambi Weavil", thinking no one would notice as the number of poor-selling West Coast CD reviews on the site shrinks to nothing. Wither the new Dogg Pound album, MGFers? Elsewhere, the unwritten "quality over quantity" approach to posting is frustrating for those of us with real jobs, yet without a real work ethic. C'mon, y'all…give me some midday material to get through my nine hours! Finally, and most frustrating, MGF has proven to be a difficult read for trailer-park harpies who've become inexplicably intoxicated off of their own imagined internet celebrity.

One Sentence Summary: The loquacious spirit of That Bootleg Guy should keep MGF writing at a just-below-(three-time)-award-winning level for at least another 11 months.

Next Week: East Coast Bias (Think of me as Tupac and ECB as Biggie…)

TBG Reviews Dreamgirls

But, first the trailers…

Hairspray - Memo to the movie industry: when a two-minute movie trailer consists entirely of a voiceover reading off the names of every known and unknown commodity in said movie…without any scenes from the movie…it should lose its "trailer" status. It's like someone said, "Hey, I found this on imdb. Start from the top." Anyways, it's got John Travolta, Michelle Pfeiffer, Queen Latifah and Amanda Bynes. At this writing, it's still not known which man (Travolta or Latifah) will break gender to play that-ain't-no-woman, "Edna Turnblad". How divine!

Daddy's Little Girls - An addendum to my "Black Movies" post: You know it's a Black Movie if the possessive tense of "Tyler Perry" appears in the title. That brutha owns more Black enterprise than the ancestors of those who owned his…um, I mean "David Stern". Yeah, he owns more Blacks than David Stern. There, that's less offensive, no? Here, a down-on-his-luck mechanic finds love outside his socio-economic bracket and fights to keep his three daughters from his trashy ex-wife. What I most remember is the trailer voiceover guy using his "serious" tone to read the name "Oscar winner Lou Gossett, Jr." alongside (in the same tone) WB n' UPN mainstays "Tracie Ellis Ross" and "Terri J. Vaughn". Two of these things do not belong.

Because I Said So - Trailer opens with a succession of flat booties in ostensibly "sexy teen!" underwear, then pans to Diane Keaton, 102, in her high-top granny draws. The other perfect twentysomething girls in the dressing room start panty-mocking, blissfully unaware that all of their asses appear to be…just like Old Mother Keaton's. I can't be the only to have noticed this. This flick's about finding love and a mother letting go, then possibly finding love herself. Alternate movie title: "Lifetime, Television for Women: The Movie".

Music & Lyrics - Drew Barrymore and Hugh Grant star in a formula film that Barrymore has perfected: relatively normal girl meets quirky boy. Damn it, Drew, quit giving hope to awkward teens! Let those kids suffer in silence on their Saturday nights with either their Dungeons or their Dragons. Grant's the washed-up pop star, Barrymore's the perky gal who, ten years ago, would've ended up with Bill Paxton or Bill Pullman if we could turn the casting machine back to 1997.

Dreamgirls

It was "date night" for Mr. & Mrs. Bootleg last Thursday. I opted for Dreamgirls, which was actually my first musical since Stephen Bochco's Cop Rock left the air. Unless you've been living under a rock and don't read Jet, Essence or Ebony magazines, you probably know that this is the cinematic adaptation of the successful Broadway musical.

The cast is a who's who of assimilated Negroes, including Jaime Foxx, Beyonce Knowles, Eddie Murphy and former American Idol hopeful Jennifer Hudson.

Entertainingly elementary, Dreamgirls is not unlike really good porn as concepts like "plot" and "character development" take a back seat to the real action sequences. Hudson has no business being discussed as an Oscar candidate (her acting range here is limited to "pout" and "pissed"), but damn she can blow.

Murphy is also being touted for his performance and it's better than I thought it would be. He's really just lampooning himself, but he chews up the scenery with a desperate zest and personality that's lacking from Jaime Foxx and Beyonce. Those two display zero chemistry in roles that call for them to display, well, zero chemistry and they have trouble pulling that off.

The second act drags and the climactic comeuppance for Foxx's incorrigible Curtis Taylor character is inexplicably convenient, but the music is strong and, often spectacular, so I'll look the other way on the negatives.

This time…

Black Snake Moan, The Prequel

Don't believe what anyone else tells you, kids. The worst part about getting older…the single sh*ttiest aspect of aging…is watching your heroes get old. Back in 1985, none of us thought that Decepticon Soundwave – easily the best bad guy amongst Megatron's minions – would be rendered obsolete with the advent of the CD.

One summer later, my Oakland A's would sign journeyman pitcher Dave Stewart and start him on a nationally televised Monday Night game against Red Sox phenom, Roger Clemens. Stew won that night, en route to a 9-5 season in Oakland. In the next four years, from 1987 to 1990, he'd win 20 games each season, along with a World Series ring and a pair of postseason MVP awards.

Dave Stewart is my all-time favorite pitcher and he's on the short list of reasons why I remain planet Earth's last Black baseball fan.

He's been retired since 1995. Stewart has bounced around from a spectacularly catastrophic run as assistant GM with the Blue Jays to successful pitching coach for one season in San Diego to sports agent to Pros vs. Joes "celebrity".

Now, it seems that Dave Stewart is determined to sully my mind's dirt n' grass flashbacks of the Oakland native toeing the rubber and winning game after game for baseball's marquee team.

The above video is from Dave Stewart's latest gig as a retroactive locker room gossip.

This…this is not happening. Dave Stewart, who signed his baseball card for me before a game and, a few years later, threw me a ball during batting practice is…whoring himself out to a dot-com domain. And, worse, he's breaking all kinds of "guy code" here.

Every night on the road for athletes has to be better than Groundhog Day meets Bachelor Party, people. And, now, Dave Stewart has become the guy who clicks his camera phone in the direction of your lap dance and thinks it's cool.

This is not happening.

But, since it obviously is, you might as well watch the video and try'n guess which former teammate actually owns the "anaconda" that inspired this soliloquy.

I call Luis Polonia.

Meet My Links - Low Resolution

See those links on the right? They come with my highest recommendation, kids. Last week, I explained why Fire Joe Morgan makes the cut. And, as if they were rewarding the praise heaped upon them, FJM dropped a delicious dissection of a nonsensical column from infamous Philly blowhard, Bulbous Bill Conlin a few days ago.

This week's link needs no introduction from any of you who've been reading me for more than a minute.

Low Resolution

Synopsis: An entertainment and pop culture blog nonpareil, Low Resolution is helmed by entertainingly insufferable Buffalonian, Joe Reid. Quick hit movie and TV reviews for those of you who don't have half a minute to read an entire blog entry and expanded posts that, day-to-day, could cover the U.S. Open, Reese Witherspoon's wardrobe, Award Show predictions, Sabres hockey or why he'll be "deep in the cold, cold ground before he recognizes Missourah".

Positives: As we're smack-dab in the middle of the movie awards season, Low Resolution is updated about every eight minutes, give or take a day or so. Crazy amounts of comprehensive entertainment insight that's accessible enough to idiots like me…even when he's talking indie films that no one wants to see! Joe's writing style is sarcastic, self-effacing hilarity that all of Bill Simmons' fans think Bill Simmons does.

Negatives: As stated above, Joe is from Buffalo, which means that Low Res. is susceptible to extended snow and/or extreme cold-related down time for 48 out of the 52 weeks in our Lord's calendar year. Meanwhile, his incessant Tom Cruise bashing is thinly-veiled envy for America's wee acting icon. Most annoyingly, Joe has been known to occasionally break into "Buffalo English". As accurately outlined here, the "flattening and nasalization" of his writing leads to the mispronunciation of toddler-ready words like "mom" and "apple". And, while you and I would grab a Whopper at Burger King, Joe would get one at "Burger King's". Oh, and their fire hydrants are yellow.

One Sentence Summary: Far and away, Joe's the single most talented writer I worked with during my four-year 411/IP run and I don't backhandedly praise just anybody!

Next Week: Machine Gun Funk (a/k/a The TBG Shoot Interview…)

The 10 Worst Songs on my iPod

This past Christmas, Mrs. Bootleg upgraded my iPod from Nano to Supernova. I'll never use up the room for 7,500 songs, but I'm currently well past 700 and always in search of something to add to the mix.

It's no secret that my musical tastes don't tend to stray too far from what most of you know as "the rap music". In fact, just last week, while wearing those ubiquitous earbuds in the office, I was stopped by one of my myriad of managers who enthusiastically asked, "What'cha listening to?"

Now, for the record, let me just say that I love the middle-aged white man.

He signs my paychecks, he broadcasts my favorite sporting events and he fathers the girls that I hope my son will one day wed.

So, forgive me for generalizing, but it's just that most of them react to rap with either dismissive condescension or righteous indignation. And, at 9:15 in the morning, I get enough of both for my work-related activities.

I told my manager "Lenny Kravitz" and he seemed to approve.

In actuality, I was listening to a song off of Snoop's almost universally unlistenable No Limit Records debut, Da Game Was To Be Sold… I've got a soft spot for entertainingly awful audio. I'm talking about the music that's so bad, it's capable of doubling back to decent.

It might be because it unlocks a latent memory of a time that's long gone by (like, say, my 20s). Maybe the beat superseded the ridiculous lyrics or vice versa. Regardless, while I fully acknowledge that several of these songs suck in their own weak-ass way, they'll always have a home in my iPod.

Unless, I ever need to actually make room for more music.

Here are the ten "worst" songs currently in rotation on Aaron's iPod:

10.) Must Be The Money - Deion Sanders: That Nick'a Guy and I tore this album apart for Inside Pulse, but that doesn't change the fact that we were still the only two who bought this sonic abomination. "Prime Time" dives into this with such an insufferable bravado that all I can do is marvel at anyone with the balls to put out something this bad. Y'know how rap has gotten so materialistically empty? This was the blueprint!

9.) Santa Claus Goes Straight to the Ghetto - Snoop Dogg: Off of the little known (or sold) Death Row Records Christmas album, this one makes nice use of an Isaac Hayes sample and clocks in at nearly six minutes. Snoop's only on it for a verse or two, but the festive references to "passin' out spliffs" just says "Xmas" to me. Throw in a Nate Dogg hook and a couple of timeless nods to wanting a Sega Genesis and Super Nintendo? I'm sold.

8.) No Panties - Trina feat. Tweet: Don't be fooled by the deceptive title. The song explicitly states that no panties are coming off and your love is gonna cost. Missy Elliott wrote (and, if I remember correctly, also produced) this vacuous, vampy track and even made sure that her lesbian co-conspirator Tweet had the hook. I'm pretty sure I keep this one around solely because Mrs. Bootleg abhors explicit chick rappers.

7.) Rollin' - Limp Bizkit feat. DMX, Redman & Method Man: I have no problem admitting that I purchased a Fred Durst album although, I honestly can't remember the circumstances. This was the remix to the single that blew up in 2000 (I think), but features an absolute parody of what DMX once was (bark! bark! bark!) and the beginning of the end for the relevance of Red & Meth. Hey, it's a good workout song.

6.) My Band - D12: I'd argue that there probably hasn't been a more divisive song all century than this one. Lyrically, it's actually pretty clever, but the formulaic Eminem "first single" production and intentionally off-key hook can make anyone's ears bleed. It was also strategically self-effacing as it was released during that whole "Eminem said the N-word" dust up, which we all swept under the rug and agreed never ever happened.

5.) Jump Around - House of Pain: 15 years later, I still love that opening instrumental before the lyrics begin. I'm only including it here because, like everything else in rap from back then, it's been overplayed to the point of abject saturation. Funny thing is that this was a pretty significant song in a historical context. It was one of the first to be singled out for its violence towards women ("if your girl steps up, I'm smackin' tha ho") before Snoop Doggy Dogg perfected the practice a few months later.

4.) Keep Their Heads Ringin' - Dr. Dre: "Ring-ding-dong…ring-a-ding-ding-ding-dong"…To this day, I can't explain how this song was the west coast anthem for the summer of 1995. That would be my last year in Long Beach, before I moved down the coast to San Diego. And, despite not knowing Mrs. Bootleg at the time, most of the, umm…"things I got into" back then would still probably be grounds for divorce. Let's just call it a "good workout song" and move on.

3.) Air Force Ones - Nelly & The St. Lunatics: Wait, I can explain this one. We'd recently bought a CD burner for our computer. One of my co-workers heard about this and asked if I'd burn a copy of her Nelly album. I asked no questions and burned one for myself, too, because I'd just started reviewing albums for 411mania and needed material. Hey, I'm didn't say it was a good explanation. It also wasn't a good review.

2.) Snoop Bounce (Roc n' Roll Remix) - Snoop Dogg & Rage Against the Machine: This one's from the never-released Doggumentary EP and can only be found on 2001's Greatest Hits album. The rock-based production sounds like stock music from any generic catalog, but it's light years better than the original off of Snoop's terrible Doggfather album. In the summer that this was supposed to drop, Puff Daddy remixed the All About The Benjamins single into his own rock n' roll cut and rode the ghost of Biggie and back fat of Lil' Kim into the hearts of America.

1.) Hoochie Mama - 2 Live Crew: OK, so I uploaded the soundtrack from the movie Friday and removed all the superfluous cuts but this one. I finally deleted it today, but for the last several months, whenever I'd have the iPod on "shuffle", this song would always come up. I'd tell myself I'm going to get rid of it, but never did, until now. For all those Dirty South acts who'll gleefully coon for a dollar, I hope all of them are giving residuals to Uncle Luke for opening the door.

Thank you, Luther Campbell.

Thank you.

TBG on DVD: Transformers – The Movie 20th Anniversary Special Edition

And, so begins the blitz of marketing for the July 4th release of the new live-action Transformers movie.

Growing up on the syndicated Transformers cartoon of the mid-80s, I was naively blind to the fact the show was nothing more than a 30-minute commercial for the toy line. A few years ago, I received the first season on DVD and barely made it through a few episodes before the extreme cheesiness of bad dialogue and comically awful plots overwhelmed my Transformers memories.

Still, the 1986 movie remains an interesting enough niche piece of pop culture, that it's maintained a home in my movie collection from clamshell VHS to bare-bones rushed DVD to this…a double-disc five-star treatment for a movie that didn't even gross six million dollars during its original theatrical run.

Both the wide and full-screen adaptations are included here and the "re-mastering" treatment is obvious as the colors are back to their original '80s garishness. Lots of purples and oranges that I really don't remember wearing back then, but whatever.

And, let's be honest…the film's only entertaining sequence is in the first 20 minutes. The planet-eating menace Unicron is established, a bunch of Autobots get gunned downed as all those laser beams that miss their targets on the TV show actually can kill here and a handful of icons from the syndicated series die a few gruesome deaths.

By the time the sissified Starscream is blasted to ashes, all the central characters to the original series are gone and we're left with a new generation of toys to push for the remainder of the movie. And, it's a movie that's full of plot holes and incredulous twists, even grading on the "it's just a cartoon" sliding scale of acceptance.

Anyways (spoiler alert) the good guys win and the bad guys are vanquished.

The fun on this DVD is in the assload of extras.

For those of you who normally shy away from the "commentary" tracks, find time to give these a listen. There's one here that includes director Nelson Shin which is off the charts of unintentional comedy. Try to imagine an addled Asian grandfather who spits out the obvious ("Look! He's changing to a truck!") in English so bad it's actually subtitled when he appears in other features on this DVD.

There's another commentary track done by "fans" in what is the very definition of "guilty pleasure". Three or four hardcore TF fans (each with their own TF website, natch) provide a near-infinite amount of insight into the movie and some of its more infamous urban myths. But, the sound of grown men meticulously detailing each scene with a child's enthusiasm is more than a little…unsettling.

The rest of the extras range from "passable" to "pedestrian". There are about a half-dozen trailers of varying length and picture quality and a sneak peak at the 2007 TF movie. All you need to know is that Michael Bay tells us he's re-made this movie in the style of 1998's Armageddon.

I look forward to the shitty single from the shitty soundtrack of, what I fear, will be a shitty movie.

The only other extras of note are some original commercials for the toy line (in terrible quality) from both America and Japan, as well as a "never before seen" Japanese episode that ties the series to the movie. There's no dialogue, though, and most of it's cobbled together from old episodes.

This one's for the most hardcore fans only, kids. Maybe worth adding to the Netflix queue if you only want to catch the commentaries, but save your $20 if you already have the movie, as the extras aren't that special.

Playoff Pickery - AFC/NFC Championship Weekend

I fancy myself as something of a "stats guy", so the following celebratory post must be prefaced with the usual warnings about "small sample size", "standard deviation" and other things that don't matter when you go 3-1 against the spread and the money line last week.

Thanks to my new best friends at bodog.com, the money I laid across three of the four games all came up winners and I didn't play the one game that I missed. (Screw me once, Drew Brees, shame on you…)

Indianapolis won outright in a field goal fest over Baltimore. I probably should've seen that coming vs. the Ravens defense and the fact that Steve McNair is 92 years old. Still, I figured Indy would keep it close enough for gamblers to ride the road 'dog.

New Orleans had much more trouble than they should've had versus Philadelphia. Did the league catch up to what was one of the most explosive offenses in the league through Thanksgiving? The Saints only hope is to play an even more offensively inept squad this weekend.

It's been a week and I'm still in awe of anyone who thought the Bears were 8 ½ points better than, well…anyone. The fact that Seattle, who might not be one of the top 15 teams in the league, took Chicago to overtime can't bode well for The Superfans this Sunday.

Next to the Raiders winning the Super Bowl when Aaron was 11 years old, no football game has ever brought me more joy than New England's "upset" over San Diego. Imagine living in a town where the influence of the local sports team is everywhere. TV, radio, newspaper, car flags, jerseys…and, now imagine that everyone's "lifelong infatuation" began about four months ago.

As a bonus, LaDanian Tomlinson gets exposed as petulant loser full of sour grapes (makes the best whine!) and the team opts to bring back head coach Marty Schottenheimer and his 5-12 5-13 playoff record. Thank you, New England. Thank you.

As always, the following predictions are for entertainment purposes only (home team in CAPS):

Outright: 7-1
Vs. the Spread: 4-4

New England Patriots (+3) vs. INDIANAPOLIS COLTS

As I see it, with my Raiders finishing up the year at 2-14, I had to sell some of my soul for the Chargers to collapse so spectacularly. Under any normal circumstance, I'd never root for Tom Brady or Bill Belichick in any game, but there I was, cheering the effeminate Foxboro favorite and his homeless-clothed coach. Unfortunately, for all of us, it won't end here. While Brady won't outplay Peyton, the Pats will hang around all game, keep it close and win it on an Adam Vinatieri field goal missed field goal.

Final Score: Patriots 24, Colts 23


New Orleans Saints (+2) vs. CHICAGO BEARS

For the record, I wouldn't touch this game with Mrs. Bootleg's bank account. If it's unseasonably warm (what is that in Chicago, 22…23?) I can see more scoring. If it's snow, I can see no scoring. The season-long erosion of Rex Grossman will finally be washed away in one of those 4 INT or 3 fumble games. Meanwhile, will everyone please stop telling me that Drew Brees played at Purdue and should be used to cold, bad weather games? His last six years have been spent in San Diego and in a dome. Drew will struggle, too, but not enough to lose.

Final Score: Saints 17, Bears 16