Friday, May 13
Friday Night Fever. I've Got It.
Rap's dead. Rap sucks. But thanks to ya'll for killin' it, grillin' it down and spillin its guts, and fillin' it back up with trash. Wait up, I mean cash - Jean Grae
I'll have mine with lettuce and tomato. Heinz 57 and the tip of my friend's finger. Yeah, she knew the man. She, her husband and the recently handicapped man were in cahoots. But she looks so trustworthy. http://edition.cnn.com/2005/LAW/05/13/wendys.finger.ap/
Wonder if this will make the Cornell alumni mag? Right there next to wedding pics. http://www.reuters.com/newsArticle.jhtml?type=topNews&storyID=8487893
Generalizations, anyone? Look, if you don't subscribe to the Times online, you should. It's free. It's good. And it's sometimes absurd. Like this Brent guy. He makes a decent point, but sounds like an ass while doing it. Decrying Hip Hop because of 50 Cent and his ilk is tantamount to decrying Rock because of Maroon Five. Dude, it's all pop. Hip Hop, like Rock, is a broad term. Within each, you have people seeking the art, and people seeking the fame. Sometimes a band or artist gets both. But it's rare. That said, there is great rock out there. And there is great hip hop out there, tons of it. None of which talks about fukkin bitches wearing Gucci's, bustin' caps or throwin' diamonds out of Escalades. There is a problem, but it's not Hip Hop. It's your research, Brent. http://www.nytimes.com/2005/05/12/opinion/12thu4.html?th&emc=th
Virgins everywhere rejoice! But when it's over, will there be anything left to live for? http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2005/05/13/entertainment/main695116.shtml
What tha? Pitt "didn't understand the idea that marriage had to be forever"? Yeah, now that I think about it, the vows are a bit vague: "To have and to hold, til death do us part or just til you grow restless and meet someone new who just happens to be too hot for TV and you just have to, like, have a go. You know, either one." I do! http://www.heraldsun.news.com.au/common/story_page/0,5478,15279753^2902,00.html
Stuart Scott. Boo. No yah. Just plain boo.


