The CRB can suck it. SERIOUSLY. There is some super shady shit going down and you all should know about it. While I’m not a webcaster, a podcaster or internet radio station — I do support my online brothers and sisters who are fighting the good fight and supporting quality indie music that otherwise gets no love but supporting the National Internet Radio Day of Silence. There will be no hate today — Im too busy focusing on those iBusters over at the CRB.
If this CRB ruling is not overturned we are going to loose the diversity and aweomse that is net radio. Don’t let the iBusters win. Click the banner up there for more info on how to act now or peep out LISTEN NOW who is observing the Day of Silence by replacing all their regular programming with education on the issues at hand.
Hollywood Hipster Rap:
Up until last week, I had no idea that there was a “hip hop scene” in Hollywood. Sure there are hella people in LA that are making great music and doing good shit (more on those people later) but there is a whole festering boil of a community in Hollywood specifically, that thinks they are “hip hop” or at the very least see hip hop as a way to catalyze their rapidly disappearing 15 minutes of fame and subsequent careers. Dirt Nasty *seems to be at the helm of this decrepit scene. I had the unfortunate luck of catching parts of his set while at the Roxy last week. Dude raps poorly in a generic white rapper cadence about his small dick, doing blow, famous people he knows and other self-effacing topics like taking shits and fucking animals. It’s pretty terrible shit, but I that’s his whole schtick — insincere humility. More disturbing than the lack of talent was the complete absence of professionalism. Dude was an opener on the bill and had a 25 person entourage (seriously, not exaggerating) that followed him everywhere including out the front door in the middle of the headliner’s set. It’s common courtesy to stay and watch the headliner, sure not everyone stays but if you choose to leave the polite thing to do is leave before the set starts so as to not distract from the show. But no, dude decides to wait until the headliner has started and then march his his ass all the way across the club (with 25 people in tow) out the front door, ten minutes into the set. That’s just arrogant and rude. Which is why he’s here on these pages being called out as bitchmade. Here’sa terrible picture of him outside talking to some trampy waitress.
LGBTQIQ – Huh? What? Yeah. I know. I said that same thing when I saw it on a job listing a friend was looking at. I said to myself, “WTF is QIQ?” For those of you who live in the Midwest or maybe just hate Gay people, LGBT= Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender. That’s been pretty common for a while now. But this QIQ business is new as fuck. I did a little research first on Wikipedia, cause it’s like the bible yo! And second with the Gays I know to discuss my findings. Here are the results of both:
Wikipedia says: Nothing. Not a damn thing. Seriously. Try it. Nothing comes up. Lydia says: What the fuck is QIQ? I better Google this shit. Google says: A whole bunch of links to wierd websites who all seem to be in agreement that it means,
Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender Queer Intersex and Questioning. Lydia says: Are you fucking serious? Questioning? We’re giving people who don’t even know what hole to stick it in or rub it on a fucking equal chance now? Did we reaaaaaally need to expand this acronym? I bet this is some Bay Area only hippy shit. Doesn’t Queer mean Gay? I’m so confused. I’m going to ask the Bears.
So I last week in LA, I had lunch with some gays. These aren’t just your willy nilly every day gays. They are like LA Power Gays. OK so that might be a stretch but they are smart and really fucking gay. So I ask them:
Lydia Says: Are you guys down with this whole LGBTQIQ shit?
Or is it just the hippie fags up in my area that are covering all the PC bases?
Gays all look at me, then each other and then me. The surly accomplished writer, Dave says: What the fuck are you talking about? The knows a lot about food and is gay on two continents, Poppychirpysays: Hmmmm….Queer something? The LA TV writer Christian says: OH GOD! Lydia says: I Googled it and evidently it means “Queer…Intersexed….Questio….”
Before I finish the word “questioning” the table heaves a loud collective sigh “UG” followed by a bunch of “You are kidding? Oh jeez….Questioning?”
Christian says: I’ve got a question….are you sucking my dick or aren’t you? Dave says: Fucking hippies Lydia says: Um so yeah Queer is Gay right?
There’s not a new secret meaning Im not up on is there? Is it like Mexicans and Chicano? Dave laughs and says “Yes, Queer is the gay equivilent of Chicano…you have my permission to say that” Poppychipy says: “What about Gay for Pay? Are we going to recognize them next?”
The conversation went on and on in far less politically correct directions than you can imagine but the overall ruling was LGBTQIQ is fucking lame and should not be used. Oh and Queer is the new Chicano….spread the word.
Also if you are ever in LA, need a delicious burger and a place to discuss inappropriate things like “Gay for Pay” or “Cam Jobs” I suggest you visit Sonia over at Irv’s Burgers on Santa Monica Blvd. Sonia will shower you with meat, love and jokes. She chided me for being late and told me she was going to charge me extra for making the gays wait.
No this isn’t for your iPod. It’s a cradle…. for your vagina, a docking station if you will. I know I’m always a little confused as to what to do with mine when I’m not using it. Evidently, this is the new sexy alternative to a G String. ( It’s called a C String) You know because, we’ve been like needing one. Imagine, all these years I’ve been walking around thinking “If only I could find more an even more uncomfortable solution to VPL than the G String….There has GOT TO BE A BETTER WAY!” Thank God someone finally found a solution! I can’t believe I’ve been walking around all this time, comfortably without a headband shaped piece of plastic rammed up my ass in place of underpants. More pics of this contraption here, here and here.
Player of the Week:
Honors this week go to whomever is in charge of commercial wheatpasting here in SF. I’ve been peeping these out all over the city. Either someone has a good sense of humor or I read too many gossip blogs . Whatever the case, this shit is funny.
OK that’s it. Over and out.
**Talented, polite and relevant LA rappers/musicians/homies you should know about – 2Mex Fat Lip NuMark
World Music Audiences: I used to make bit broad statements like “I can’t stand World Music. That shit is annoying” For the most part, I do think that, but there are exceptions. I’ve been taking stock of my likes and dislikes in the World Music genre and come to the conclusion that it’s not so much the music I hate but more so the vibe and more specifically the audience. Outside of “hippies” which of course fucking flip for anything with a conga or a timbale, there are a wealth of stereotypical World Music fans that deserve some hate time. Here are a breakdown on a few stereotypes I witness first hand at the recent Manu Chao show here in SF. Urban Gypsy/Hula Hoop Enthusiasts – I used to think of these two stereotypes as wholly separate, but now I know they are one in the same. A hula hoop is just a means to an end (more on that later). There has been a recent outbreak of displaced Urban Gypsies (I blame the proliferation and mainstreaming of Burning Man ) Start watching your back and your shit (including your children). Gypsies are fucking everywhere and up to no good. Urban Gypsy season traditionally runs between now and September but in the last year I’ve seen a noteable surplus surfacing here in SF a lot earlier and they are not leaving. (LA you are probably safe, but NYC get up on game — I know they are out there.) UGs are noted by an excess of accessories like flashy earings, homemade looking caps, weird fingerless gloves, makeshift leg and/or arm warmers, akward belts with trinkets and almost always including some sort of wierd bag (that’s where they stuff thier stolen wares). Clothing sorta varies but they are really into layering and makeshift clothing (think bathing suit tops under mid-drift bearing wool sweaters) Sure they look innocent enough, toting around fun shit like Hula Hoops, smiling and being all amicable and shit — that’s all part of the game. They lure you in with all that camp and uniqueness but they are not to be trusted. Never and I mean never look them in the eyes – that’s where their power lies. Oh and never smoke weed with them, ever. I don’t care how good their stash looks (and it will probably look REAL good) – one hit from that pipe and you are going to end up with a house full of them muttering to yourself, “How did this happen? I thought he just wanted to fill up his water bottle? Is that a goat? Oh jeez why does my Lacoste sweater smell like sage and feta?”
Fake Muslims – Listen homegirl, I don’t care how tightly you wrap that scarf around your head and how drab you dress we all know you are a white girl who got a little too inspired by one of your Ethnic Studies courses. I’m no religious scholar but Im pretty sure Muslim women shouldn’t be out after 9pm on a weeknight at a concert where the performer praises the use of marijuana and sings songs littered with left-wing socio-political messages. Might want to rethink that whole “look” a bit more. Also last time I checked Allah wasn’t opposed to eye brows, so you might want to pencil them shits in a bit more.
Hippy Dudes, Who Only Want To Fuck Un-Hippy Chicks: Here’s the deal bro, you can’t live the natural life and then expect to be able to fuck chicks who still shop at Nordstrom and keep their waxing appointments. It just doesn’t work that way. Sure you can try, shit, I encourage you to. I’m just saying it’s not going to happen. If you get lucky you might score a chick who’s trying to make her dad angry (like this broad here) so she’s out smoking weed and doing the hippy two step with some dude named “Rain” but it only lasts so long. One of two things is going to happen-
A. She decides her dad is “ruining her life” and in order to really get back at him she’s got to make a commitment to rebellion. You my friend are just the first step. Enjoy the now, because in a matter of weeks all that hair is growing back and she’s going to turn in all those tight little shirts and form fitting skirts for hand-sewn hippy sundresses and start using one of those “Crystal Sticks” in leiu of Secret and that Issey Miyake body lotion you’ve grown to love so much.
B. Dad realizes that he’s about to unleash an inferno of chaos if he doesn’t give Daddy’s Little Girl a bit more attention (and allowance.) He finally breaks her off with a promise ring from Tiffany’s, a trip to Bloomies on the gold card and an introduction to that young go getter in the Executive training program at his firm. New dude picks her up in his Porsche, takes her to dinner at Gary Danko, then next thing you know he’s got an 8ball on the dash as he mashes across the bridge blasting Nelly’s “It’s Gettin’ Hot In Here” while she’s singing along at the top of her lungs in the passenger seat wearing nothing but that new La Perla bra she copped on Daddy’s dime.
Dancing Queens: I’ve come to the conclusion that the “Jumping Jack” is the un-official dance of all World Music lovers. It’s easy to do, it expresses joy and can be freaked enough to actually appear like one is dancing. Well, sort of. I tried and tried to get a good picture/video that captured the terrible dancing but between the fake salsa dancers, the jumping jacks, dudes twirling imaginary dirt, arm dancers, hula hoopers and all the crazy feet — it was impossible.
Player of the Week:
Got to give props to this broad — she’s obviously a good earner. A good earner never leaves early, misses a shift or passes up an opportunity to make it rain. A good earner knows that a loyal client doesn’t have to be found in the club itself. Nothing better than finding a dumb ass who actually thinks he’s got a chance at finding love and then duping his ass into a visit to the club. Those dudes spend the most money, every good earner knows that. When I saw her go to work on this sad sap, I was awe-struck. This is taking it to the next level. It’s never too early to start grooming your clientele, ladies! If only you could see the look in that sad sap’s eyes, when she bent down to pinch his cheek. Mere seconds after I stopped taping Zweibacks were flying out of that stroller at an unprecidented rate.
Bonus Hate: The audio playing in the background is a fine example of the type of hip hop I hate. Once upon a time, I had a much larger tolerance for this sing songy generic ass “conscious” rap. These days , I hear shit like this and it just makes me shake my head and daydream about walking up to the soundboard and just unplugging dude’s mic and plugging in my mp3 player locked and loaded with “I Got Chips“