Wale's "Mirrors".... The Calm Before The Shit Storm?

"The rest of State Property must be maaaaad..."

I have not been shy these last couple of months at expressing my trepidation regarding the prospects of quality regarding "Attention: Deficit", Wale's upcoming debut album. It seems that after Wale received near universal acclaim ("universal" meaning praise from people who don't find Gucci's jewelry/produce couplets the highest form of American poetry...) for "The Mixtape About Nothing," he's been far more concerned with hobnobbing with celebrities and updating his followers on the regularities of his bowel movement on Twitter (Seriously, have you seen how often this guy twitters? I know less about the every day's comings and goings of my closest friends than I do about this guy. Keep some mystery about yourself, dude!) than being in the studio crafting quality songs that people want to listen to. It makes one wonder if he's received too much hype too fast before he had the chance to build a solid audience or identity as an artist and instead, left him craving the fast money and limelight that a huge radio hit provides.

I have been less than ecstatic about his output that's been leaked for his album and this seemed directly tied to his obvious desires for a crossover smash (and thus far, his inability to write one). Enough blood has been spilled over the transcendent offense to the aural canals that is "Chillin", so there is no need to re-hash but the other material that has been released for the album have failed to capture my imagination as well. "Pretty Girls" was cool but it didn't help that it couldn't catch on despite that it featured the presence of every ig'nant rap fan's favorite manslaughter defendant, Gucci Mane. "World Tour" was slyly catchy but it was too derivative of a far greater Tribe Called Quest song for it to be considered a success. Meanwhile, "Let It Go (Inhibitions)" and "Contemplate", two high profile collaborations with famous artists (in this case, the Corpse Of Pharrell Williams and Rihanna) were the basic definition of album filler. It seemed the farther he strayed from his D.C. go-go influences into crossover territory the more flaccid the material became.

Today's leak du jour, "Mirrors," takes the opposite approach to the pop market pandering of "Attention: Deficit's" earlier leaks and not surprisingly, it's one of the more successful songs released from the album thus far. However, it still isn't quite the show-stopping monsters that "Back In The Go-Go" and "Nike Boots" were last year. "Mirrors" draws heavily from Mark Ronson's shockingly gutter production (who knew the Trust Fund King Of Hip Hop had these types of beats in him?) and Wale manages to acquit himself very nicely with a showy, stuterring cadence that proves he can ride a beat as well as anybody. Problem is that he's getting his shine seriously blocked by Bun B's killer sixteen (he tends to do that to even the best of rappers) and ultimately, Bun seems to make Wale seem like an afterthought on his own song. Wale has a lot of strengths as a writer (witty pop culture driven punchlines, an ability to write an issue driven song that doesn't come across as condescending, etc.) but going head-to-head against rappers of Bun's caliber is a recipe for looking foolish. He's much better at letting himself give space to muse on the song at hand than attempting to compete with other rappers for song dominance. He's just not that type of rapper. He's way better at working at a concept song and digging into the intricacies than anything else. It's definitively why "The Mixtape About Nothing" and "100 Miles & Running"(two mostly featureless records) are better than "Back To The Feature."

I'm not in FULL-ON PANIC MODE about "Attention: Deficit" because other than "Chillin", the songs have been simply unspectacular rather out right awful but I'm certainly worried that the record could be an assured disappointment. After all, I have spent quite the amount of time talking Wale up as if he's the future of hip hop. I wouldn't want to be wrong, now wouldn't I? I have a reputation to protect.

Random Notes:

- Wale and Ronson have had great chemistry ever since the initial "100 Miles & Running" mixtape two years ago. Wale should really considering working exclusively with Ronson and Best Kept Secret on all future products. They bring the best out of each other.

- This record is certainly not approaching a hit record (and I'm sure Tray is going to come wandering around to discuss some nonsense) but this is the type of stuff that Wale should be rhyming over for here on out.

- I only link to other blog's to provide zshare links because Interscope has a nasty habit of shutting your whole blog down if you deign to link to their material. Obviously, I'm interested in maintaining an accurate archive of my material. Mostly so commenters can bring up some hyperbolic comment about Saigon two years after the fact to flaunt that I once had something slightly positive to say about a rapper that he doesn't like. Consider this the trade-off, folks.

Download: Wale [Feat. Bun-B] - Mirrors [Via Nah Right]

Dear God, Why Are You Fucking With Us?

"[Archived Photo]: Man Screaming Expletives In A Cemetery ( 2010). Source: The Good Doctor Zeus' Worst Nightmares, copyright B.J. Steiner, July 2010."

Dear God,

Are you fucking kidding me?! After the unmitigated disaster of the 2008 Browns and 2008/2009 Cleveland Indians, you are crushing our hopes for a championship with a wildly disappointing wannabe contender, yet again. You really are doing this to the city of Cleveland, yet again? Why? What the hell did we ever do to piss you off so much?

It's bad enough that we had to watch our last two CY Young winners be traded away and proceed to start Game 1 of the World Series for our bitter enemies but you are now fucking with LeBron James, too. The Cavaliers are only two games into the season and they look like a total, irredeemable clusterfuck. I can understand getting beat by the Celtics on Opening Night. The Celtics are a great team after all (I just got nauseous a little admitting that...) but having us getting nearly blown out by the Toronto fuckin' Raptors is beyond the pale even for your vindictiveness.

Why do you continue to build us up only to anally violate our souls with spike medieval weaponry? Was trading away Rocky Colavito that much more of an affront to you than the Red Sox trading away Babe Ruth or that damned Cubs goat? Those teams got to enjoy Larry Bird, Michael Jordan, Tom Brady and the 1985 Chicago Bears. Why fuck with us in all three major sports? It's bad enough we have to tolerate the gross, spectacular incompetence of the Fake Browns. Why mess with the only thing that's remotely source of civic pride in our fair city? Lebron James and the Cleveland Cavaliers.

This is bullshit so get your act together, fix up Delonte West and get the Cavaliers back in shape or we will have more than words when I see you, God. This is not acceptable.

Love,

The City Of Cleveland

Return Of The King!

"Seriously, SI? What do you have against Cleveland? Wasn't this enough for you?"

Our lord and savior, LeBron Raymone James, returns to the court tonight in the first step to ending Cleveland's quixotic journey towards a professional championship. This is the best team the Cavaliers have ever assembled. Win a ring for the King.

I Heart Jay Electronica

"Thankfully, this man remains immune to the insidious effects of Baduizm. Quick! Somebody develop a vaccine!"

In a world where every aspiring rapper’s hustle primarily consists of flooding the market with more disposable mixtapes and “Run This Town” freestyles than my desktop’s trash bin can conceivably handle, Jay Electronica’s approach to career promotion is shockingly spartan. It seems like ages since the man has released a full length CDQ instead choosing to release tantalizingly, short snippets of restrained brilliance in MP3 form and live performance videos to satiate the unending, rabid hunger of the internet, true school hip hop fan. In my mind, the one minute, forty-five seconds of the video preview of the Just Blaze produced “Dear Moleskine” is the most thrilling two minutes of music produced all year and it’s not even a finished song. Jay doesn't just believe in the power of quality over quantity. He believes in nothing less than flawless perfection. It's an admirable quality but it leaves the devoted fan of his with a maddening case of blue balls.

So you can imagine the school boy enthusiasm that I felt when Jay released two new, unreleased tracks within twenty-four hours of each other today. “Suckas” and “2 Step” are easily some of the best music released this all year and continues Jay’s burgeoning candidacy for the greatest rapper of his generation. Jay’s perfectionism is obvious and palpable on both of these tracks as his sheer mastery of the lyrical arts continue to astound. The man is simply not playing around. The man needs to release his debut album yesterday.

Download: Jay Electronica - Suckas [Produced By J Dilla] - via Nah Right

Download: Jay Electronica - 2 Step [Produced By Sol Messiah] - via Dot Got It

Bonus Video: Jay Electronica - Dear Moleskine [Produced By Just Blaze]

Clipse, Cam & Chicken

“Welcome To 2006...”

Way before Radric Davis became the chic rapper du jour of the sneering intelligentsia, Cameron Giles and the Brothers Thronton were perennially sweeping Pitchfork’s annual overly enthusiastic ironic rapper appreciation awards. Thus, it’s “kind of big deal” that Clipse and Cam’ron would decide to collaborate on Clipse’s new single, “Popular Demand (Popeyes)” for the Clipse’s upcoming album, “’Til The Casket Drops.”

In a lot of ways, Clipse’s and Cam’s approach to crafting hipster appreciated coke rap is diametrically opposed. The Clipse are all snarling, dystopic fury and perfectly crafted, menacing punchlines while Cam assualts the boundaries of cogency with his aloof non-sequiturs and assumed superiority. On “Popeyes,” they manage to synthesize these ideas to create the best track these three rappers have been apart of since Pitchfork stopped paying attention.

Pharell provides a dusty piano break in the vein of Lupe Fiasco’s “I Gotcha” for them to snap over and they all do a strong job attacking the beat. Highlights include a particularly memorable Pusha-T verse where he curiously taunts our Lord and Savior, LeBron Raymone James, for sleeping his with sloppy seconds that Pusha takes note looks like Madonna. Why Pusha wants to be smited by God is beside the point. It sounds awesome to hear the Brothers Thornton (...and Cam) over proper Neptunes production and kicking furious brag rhymes again after hearing a series of ill-advised overt plays for the club that marked the hideous “Re-Up Gang” album.

I’m cautiously expecting good things from “Til The Casket Drops” especially since “Kind Of Like A Big Deal" has grown on me significantly.

Download: Clipse [Feat. Cam'ron] - "Popular Demand (Popeyes)" - (Via Nah Right)

No Words... Weezer F. Baby Edition

"How can we take my rock guitar approach and marry it to hip hop?" - Rivers Cuomo
"Don't." - the American record-buying public

In Chuck "The Best Music Writer Alive" Klosterman's new book, Eating The Dinosaur, there is an extended essay on Rivers Cuomo (and how he kind of, sort of, vaguely relates to Ralph Nader) in which he questions the common sense assumption that anything Weezer creates is remotely ironic. Klosterman asserts that Cuomo is the most literal rock artist of all-time and this goes to explaining the universal shittiness of hist post-Pinkerton (or far more accurately post-Blue Album) career. For Weezer's sake, Klosterman had better be wrong because "Can't Stop Partying", Weezer's paradigm-shiftingly terrible collaboration with Lil Wayne, is quite possibly the worst decision in a career that includes "Beverly Hills" if the record was meant as anything other than ironic mockery of their collaborator. Actually, that's not necessarily true.

Let's examine the two possible scenarios for the creation of this record:

1. If Rivers Cuomo is completely literal and serious about this record (and he really does enjoy popping bottles of Patron in the club) than the implication is that Rivers is either legally retarded or has one of the most legendarily shitty taste in music of all-time. This song plays like what I imagine the inside of T-Pain's head sounds like. It's nothing but synth gurgles (provided inexplicably by Jermaine Dupri and Polow Da Don) and tertiary weirdo, nonsensical vocals. It's like a Fergie song fucked Conor Oberst and out spewed from her vagina a neon-glittering still born.

2. If this song is meant to be ironic than it's complete and total douchebaggery at it's finest. It trades in nothing but the rotest of hip hop tropes and stereotypes, mining these signifiers for the same type of cheap humor whenever white people engage with hip hop. It makes the song ugly. The fact that Lil Wayne, the king of ironic rap appreciation, shows up makes it completely worse. He's actively involving himself with people who would openly condescend to his music. (Wait...Actually, come to think of it. I think the second one is infinitely preferable. I actively encourage Weezy mockery on an epic scale. Fire away, Rivers! )

Ultimately, who is this song aiming to please? Consider how Weezer fans openly revolted at the disposable pop punk of "Beverly Hills," I can't imagine the horrified reaction a song that sounds like "Beverly Hills" as if it were remixed by... I guess, Jermaine Dupri and Polow Da Don, would create. Lil Wayne fans might react to this considerably better (considering they made the war crime against humanity called "Lollipop" a number-one hit) but considering the violent, bleeding anti-buzz that Weezy's rock album "The Rebirth" has generated, it would suggest that the only emotion that a song like this would create is revulsion.

Dear Diary: Not A Blogger Vs. VH1's Hip Hop Honors 2009

"Where's X and Jigga?"

I’m always been a bit baffled with the VH1 Hip Honors. On one hand, it’s kind of cool to see a whole bunch of forgotten rap icons get one last moment in the sun before the cruel mistress of popular culture takes them back behind the proverbial woodshed and plants two bullets in the back of their last shreds of relevancy. We get to see acts like the Furious Five share the stage with their cultural descendants in a moment of gooey, mushy glory that reminds us why we like rap music in the first place. It’s affirming of everything we kind of love about this insane little art form.

On the other hand, it’s VH1 running the show which makes the entire enterprise seem odd and out of place. Growing up in the ‘90s, I couldn’t have imagined a platform less hip hop than VH1. The network was always the prim and prissy older sister figure to MTV’s sluttier, younger sibling. While MTV had “Yo! MTV Raps” and “Headbanger’s Ball,” VH1 was content to let Celine Dion warble over their airwaves on a 24-hour cycle. If there was anything that would make lite-FM deejays swoon in their mom jeans, VH1! would play it on an almost constant, droning loop. They didn’t even play hip hop. I can remember vividly being pissed off as a budding rap fan when they cut Left Eye’s rap out of the “Waterfalls” video for reasons that I can’t even begin to contemplate. Knowing their history, I’ve always found it to be the highest of incongruity that VH1 and not MTV (or god forbid, BET...) would host this event.

This year , VH1 has decided to abandon it’s traditional format of honoring the fifteen or so artists that a bunch of random talking heads on television retrospectives have deemed “important” and honor Def Jam Records, instead. (I guess because honoring Russell Simmons, LL Cool J, Slick Rick, Public Enemy and the Beasties Boys weren’t enough recognition for Def Jam the first time.. Yet again, they did honor Isaac Hayes for reasons that haven’t been fully explained last year so that might be more of a function that they are running out of artists that people might remember. I mean, nobody really wants to see a forty year old Skee-Lo get up on stage and do “I Wish”... well except me.) Anyway, since I wasn’t invited to go to the show, I decided to do a running diary to review the show. Hate on!

9:00 - The show opens up with the sweet, melodious sounds of a gospel choir as the show’s host, Tracy “The Dong Slayer” Morgan, dressed like a preacher in a James Brown wig proselytizes the gospel according to Brother Russell. Somewhere along the line, this turns into a rousing rendition of “Jesus Walks” which is ironic because Kanye West is way too busy upsetting white America to be bothered with these shenanigans. At one point, Tracy claims that DMX became the voice of hip hop. Apparently, hip hop is synonymous with crack.

9:03 - In the night’s first video package, LL Cool J (who couldn’t be bothered to show up tonight because he loathes the modern incarnation of Def Jam with the fire I only reserve for the Yankees and assorted professional sport teams from Boston) narrates a pretty hilarious story of how he met Rick Rubin. LL is a pretty funny dude, it turns out. Do you think though when he signed with Def Jam that he would find himself co-starring in a NCIS spin-off on CBS with Robin? Probably not.

9:05 - I lick my lips and adjust my fitted.

9:06 - The Roots come out to do “Rock The Bells” for what’s gotta be the 5,000th time on this show when all of sudden the corpse of Eminem shows up out of nowhere to join in. I gotta say watching Eminem and Black Thought go toe-to-toe as performers is some really impressive shit. They have got to be the two best pure technicians in the game and they really bring the heat with this performance.

9:10 - In what we will be the indelible image of this whole ordeal, Rick Rubin and Russell Simmons are interviewed about Public Enemy while they sitting shoeless and Indian-style in some idyllic garden at one of their mansions. It's all new-agey and stupid. I’m pretty sure if their younger counterparts could have seen how ridiculous and lame they looked twenty-five years later, they would have hung themselves in the closet in that NYU dorm room. How the mighty have fallen...

9:11 - What the fuck? Jimmy Fallon is introducing Public Enemy?! This has officially replaced “Flavor Of Love 3” as the most embarrassing moment in Chuck D’s life.

9:12 - Public Enemy does “Rebel Without A Pause” backed by virtually every vaguely “revolutionary” political musician ever. This has to be the first and only time that Boots Riley will EVER be on national television so that’s kind of notable right there. I didn’t listen to “Street Sweeper Social Club” (because I have better things to do with my life) but I heard it was pretty terrible. On the other hand, Pitchfork gave it a “3.9” which probably means it’s the rap album of the year. I will say this, though. Tom Morello continues to make weird noises out of his guitar.

9:17 - I just want you to know I think it’s incredibly disturbing to see Russell and Rick talk about wanting to make loud, angry music when they aren’t wearing any shoes. This image alone is enough to make me want to burn my copy of “Radio.”

9:19 - Scarface and Ludacris come out to a Def Jam South tribute. Scarface performs “Guess Whos’ Back” to polite indifference from the crowd. I’m blaming the crowd on that one. That song is boss. Shame on you. That would’ve killed in my apartment. Ludacris does “Southern Hospitality” to a far greater response. I find it hilarious when they do cutaways to the Def Jam dignitaries in the crowd and Kevin Liles is geeking out over the artists while Lyor Cohen looks like he’s pissed that VH1 is completely wasting his time with this foolishness.

9:25 - I got to admit these Tracy Morgan skits are hilarious. Scoopy Giles is the new, new hotness.

9:32 - Thanks, Rick! I will never get the image of Russell Simmons sweating naked in your dorm room out of my head for the rest of my life.

9:33 - Oh, man. KRS-One, Wale, and the dude from the Gym Class Heroes perform “No Sleep Til’ Brooklyn.” Whhhhhhhhhy? I’m officially in the twilight zone. And in typical KRS fashion, he promptly decides to not do the Beasties' actual lyrics and kick a random freestyle about the importance of respecting the four elements or some shit. That shit was like clockwork. Actually, that was one of the best performances of the entire show but I just want to point out that Wale is wearing a Mickey Mouse sweater. That’s a bad omen for “Attention: Deficit.”

9:40 - Apparently, Lyor Cohen signed Warren G because he was a Pete Seger and Carol Kane fan. That would not have happened if I was running Def Jam and saw those two records on his turntables.

9:41 - Warren G and Trey Songz come out to perform “Regulate.” I know Nate Dogg just had a stroke last year but couldn’t they have gotten R. Kelly to do this? I’m convinced they went with Trey Songz because Trey Songz vaguely rhymes with Nate Dogg. I just want to point out when they did a cutout to the stands, Brett Ratner was so bored that he was checking his cell phone. How dare you disrespect the power of the "Regulators," Mr. Ratner!

9:50 - Another Tracy Morgan/Scoopy Giles skit. Not as funny as first.

9:57 - So apparently, Redman called Brett Ratner’s mom a hoe to his face and thus, Ratner put his mom into the video for “Tonight’s Da Night” or something . Ratner introduces Red and Meth who do “Da Rockwilder.” I love that song but I gotta say whoever is doing the sound mix on this broadcast seriously fucked up because you can barely hear the production on any of these tracks. It’s getting really annoying. Redman is rocking a faux-hawk which makes me question my decision to write that piece championing “hipster rap” so many months ago. Had I known this would be in my future, I would’ve been listening to Gucci Mane records... Wait, no I wouldn’t!

10:00 - After a quick costume change, Method Man comes out to do “You’re All I Need To Get By” with Mary J. Blige and I thank the heavens, they are doing the vastly superior “Razor Sharp Remix” and not the uber-lame (and thus more popular) Puffy version. Note To All DJ’s: I don’t know why the Puffy version became the standardized version of that song to be played on the radio but that needs to stop. Puffy's version pales in comparison with the remix RZA did for the video. RZA’s version maintains the gritty, rawness of the album version while still being insanely catchy while Puffy’s version just lacks balls. If I wanted to listen to the equally-as-lame “One More Chance (Remix),” I would listen to the “One More Chance (Remix).” Remember, RZA > Puffy’s ghost producers. That is all.

10:05 - Apparently other than being the world’s biggest asshole, Lyor Cohen is batshit insane. Absolutely nothing in that last video package remotely approached anything resembling cogency.

10:10 - Am I reading too much into this or did Kevin Liles and some random white chick just admit to committing corporate fraud on national television? I’m sure the Internal Revenue Service would be glad to hear that Kevin Liles was writing off making it rain at a strip club as a business expense. That was awesome.


10:11 - Tracy’s outfit overdosed on the bedazzler. 50 Cent would be jealous.

10:12 - Onyx show up and do some bastardized nu-metal version of “Slam” with the Gym Class Heroes. And was I crazy or did I just hear a Rhodes synthesizer at the end of the song? I think my soul just died a little bit inside. Lyor seems annoyed with himself that he signed these clowns.

10:20 - Bill Adler speaks about how Russell and Rick’s original plan was to make the hardest, most uncompromising music possible and force the mainstream to crossover to them. I want you to remember this statement the next time you listen to the quiet storm of a Ne-Yo record.


10:21 - The hideousness of Eve’s multi-colored mullet weave is only surpassed by the monstrosity that sits atop Ashanti’s head. Ashanti’s wig looks like a cross between something Tina Turner would’ve worn to Thunderdome and a dead rat. She and the Corpse Of Ja Rule come out to do a lifeless, medley of various Murder Inc. abortions to scathing indifference from the crowd. If I had been in the audience, I would have considered chucking some cheese on stage to see if her wig was intelligent enough to run through a maze and find it.


10:27 - L.A. Reid shows up to talk about how he personally ruined hip hop. Or at least that’s what I inferred from his interview.


10:30 - When we return from commercials, Lyor Cohen offers further proof that he is totally insane. He rants something about Def Jam being blue collar (Ha!) and being able to fix cars while Death Row/Bad Boy couldn’t because they are soft and don't want to get oil dripped on them. I hate to break it to you, Lyor, but your company released “I Need Love” and as far as I can tell your company bombarded me with all the Ja Rule love songs that I could stomach a few moments ago.

10:31 - Tracy Morgan brings Oran “Juice” Jones(!!!) out for some reason. This seems like something his 30 Rock alter-ego would pull. I’m inspired. The next time I’m speaking in public, I’m going to pull an obscure 80s novelty R&B singer out of the woodwork to sing their hit song acapella, too. I wonder if Rockwell is available...

10:32 - Rick Ross gets his own tribute? What?! Why?! How?! Why?! You couldn’t have gotten Young Jeezy, at least? I’m baffled by the implications of what’s going on here. I would like to point out that Rick Ross’ DJ has managed to capture the annoyance of DJ Khaled's mixtape drops and insert them directly into the live performance medium. That’s fantastic... I’m always looking for ways artists to make their live rap performances shittier than they already are. Rick Rubin looks pained as he is forced to watch Rawse waddle about in that Fila tracksit. I know the feeling, Rubes.

10:40 - Holy shit! It’s DMX! How the hell did they get him to show up?! They must have told him he was going to be attending Tyrone Biggum’s $450,000 Crack Party, instead. Why is Gym Class Heroes re-creating “Party Up” for him? As much as I like live bands, I don’t want to hear Swizz Beatz production being recreated by the Gym Class fuckin’ Heroes or any other collection of half-rate musicians. Re-created live rap music never sounds right and ends up killing the whole vibe. I really wish artists would get off the kick that they need a band to have a hot live show. It rarely works out that way. I’d much rather listen to your DAT recorder.

10:45 - Scoopy Giles “I gotta 99 donuts but the bitch ate one.” Heh. I'm a fan of puns. Maybe, I really should get into Gucci Mane.

10:50 - The show’s finale consists of a medley of “hits” from the Def Jam artists that the show deemed not important enough to get their own segment. Kid Rock performs LL’s “I’m Bad.” (I guess white rappers from Detroit really dig LL...) EPMD performs “Crossover.” A fat, bloated Foxy Brown and Fabolous perform “I’ll Be” to hilarious schadenfreude. Ghostface and Chrisette Michelle do “Back Like That” (Ugh, really? Why not, “Run?”) to my immense disappointment. And finally, Wale comes out to do Kanye’s “Touch The Sky.” That could have been sooooooo better executed. Jay-Z or Kanye should have come out to close the show. You can't end your signature show with a performance from Wale.

10:59 - Russell Simmons comes out to do the standard Def Jam farewell as the credits roll.

Final Verdict: Would it have killed Jay-Z to show up and do “Hard Knock Life?” Doesn’t he have an album to promote? You too good to pay homage, Shawn? Fail.

As with usual with these shows, it always way more disappointing to watch than it would seem on paper. It seems like it would be awesome to watch Eminem perform “Rock The Bells” and have the greats themselves come back and perform one last time for a national audience but it always comes across as simultaneously half-assed and depressing. The newer artists always seem like they’re doing rap karaoke versions of the classics and the legends are always shells of their former selves and can’t live up to the hype of their storied past. It just doesn’t work the way you think it should.

I suppose this year was as good as any, though. I didn’t learn as much as I normally do on these shows due to the fact that the Def Jam story has been told a thousand times in a thousand places but I did discover that Lyor Cohen is apparently Gary Busey in disguise so that was fun. But before I go, I have a message from Russell Simmons...

“Thanks for coming out, God bless you and good night.”

The Inaugural Not A Blogger Cash-For-Hate FTC Advert-viewment Payola Program Spectacular

"I'm the Bernie Madoff of this blog shit..."

Dear Prospective Internet Viral Blog Money-Giving Payola People Who Send Me Press Releases For Bands I Don’t Care About:

In light of recent Federal Trade Commission regulations that require bloggers to disclose any monetary or valuable goods they receive to review products, you might feel hesitant to continue to spend (or rather, waste) money on bloggers reviewing your products. Let me assure you that I, the Good Doctor Zeus, proprietor of Not A Blogger, have no ethical qualms whatsoever with the practice of blog payola and would gladly welcome any form of monetary pay that you might be willing to needlessly waste on me. I will gladly hate on the shit you send me over the internet if you pay. I look forward to…neigh…deeply crave you giving me exorbitant amounts of money to hate on artists, bands and products that I don’t remotely care for. My endless need to compromise my bloggistic integrity for greed and that’s why I’m officially announcing “The Not A Blogger Cash-For-Hate FTC Advert-viewment Payola Program.”

What is “The Not A Blogger Cash-For-Hate FTC Advert-viewment Payola Progam,” you ask? Great rhetorical question, future real estate license applicant! “The Not Blogger Cash-For-Hate FTC Advert-viewment Payola Program” is a dynamic, paradigm-shifting opportunity in which you pay me large amounts of cash or comparable assorted goods and/or trades and I will hate on my blog about an artist I don’t remotely care about so you can generate that ever elusive blog buzz that Time Magazine and other assorted publications that old white people read keep prattling on about it. It’s that easy! You pay and I hate. What an extraordinary opportunity for you to give me money that you clearly aren’t spending wisely promoting your artist!

You may skeptical about the effect that some random dude hating on his blog about your artist can have for their career so let me tell you a little bit about the program. Not A Blogger is a semi-famous hip hop blog popular amongst other hip hop bloggers that is viewed by literally dozens of people who stumble upon during their google-search for old Wu-Tang mp3s everyday. On my blog, I regularly take large steaming piles of hate on some of my least-favorite artists and without fail they are almost always, already huge hip hop stars in their own right already. Internet blog buzz is the wave of the future. It’s the cutting edge way for you to give me money and for me to use that money on my growing hooker addiction. The logical fallacies are endless!

Here’s a list of services I will provide if you sign up with the program:

1. Angry, Poorly Written Reviews

2. Snarky comments on Twitter

3, Dismissive, Condescending Essays

4. Pictures Of Your Artists’ Album Cover With The Words “Fail” Written On It

5. Pictures Of Your Artist With Jizz Drawn On Their Face in Microsoft Paint

6. Pictures Of Your Artist Photoshopped Into Gay Porn

7. Message Board Trolling

8. Noz Baiting

9. Tom Breihan Baiting

10. Lolcatz

11. Drunkenly Calling My Friend A Racist For Liking Your Album

12. Hostile Emails

13. And More…

“The Not A Blogger Cash-For-Hate FTC Advert-viewment Payola Program” is an equal-opportunity hater and will gladly hate on all forms of music regardless if I know the slightest about your artist. Actually the less I know, the more offensive and condescending my hating will be which has an added bonus of being both incredibly amusing to myself but also ensuring that I will secure a location in one of the deeper circles in Hades. Bonus! How often does a program like this where you get to actually pay somebody (but specifically me) for hating on something that you only are half-assedly trying to promote in the first place. I mean why would you be sending a complete stranger a promotional email for some shitty viral video that your band did at 3 a.m. if you aren’t fucking the dog on your band’s promotion. So why not PAY for me to hate on it? It’s clearly the delusional money making scam of the century.

I gladly will accept any or all of these forms of payment:

1. Cash

2. Check

3. Credit Card

4. Stolen Credit Cards

5. Concert Tickets

6. Beer

7. Booze

8. Porn

9. Eastern European Prostitutes

10. 1992-93 Game-Worn Mark Price Jerseys

11. X-Box Live Accounts

12. The Keys To Blake Lively’s Apartment

13. A Job I Don’t Hate

14. Or Anything Of Comparable Value….

My lack of ethical qualms knows no standard of journalistic decency that I can’t bend to fit my elastic moral relativism. There is nothing that I won’t do to make you look like a fool for spending money on a fucking blogger. Sign up today and you too can by swept on the majesty of my hatred.

“The Not A Blogger Cash-For-Hate FTC Advert-viewment Payola Program… because if you can’t buy my love, you can certainly buy my scorn." - The Good Doctor Zeus