Man, this year has been pretty busy for Rec League. In December, we dropped Season 2. In January, Richie Cunning dropped Night Train. In February, I released Neighborhood Kid…and this month, Qm submitted his solo album, Happy Hour. And thats to say nothing of the albums previously (and futuristically) put out by Grip Grand, Proe and Rob Rush. Gee wiz. What to do now? What to do…what…to…do? All these great albums, and a live performance that ranks slightly below Michael Jacksons in Motown 25. Hmmm…what to do, what to do? I suppose we’d be some real cads if we didn’t share this miracle with the world, huh? Yeah. You’re probably right. But, the world is kinda big, so we’ll just keep it on the west coast for right now.
No Time Outs!
show dates listed over there —->
(yeah. there. where i usually put the show dates. dont act like you aint never been here befo’!)
Dear Big Baby Jesus, why’d you let South Carolina do this?
Initially, I wanted to write this post a week ago after watching his interview with Don Lemon on CNN, but unfortunately, was continually sidetracked. Anyhow, this is Alvin Greene. Winner of the Democratic Primary for US Senate. Alleged Republican Plant. Involuntarily discharged Army vet. Resident of his daddy’s basement…unemployed, and all around broke a** mofo! Now, before I continue, let it be understood that A.) I dont usually do political commentary (I tend to keep those thoughts to myself) and B.) Absolutely NOTHING makes me happier than to see my people achieve high merits. But, got damn South Carolina! Why!?! I’ve watched ALL of Mr. Greene’s interviews, and he’s yet to demonstrate the smarts and eloquence (or at bare minimum, bullsh*t-artistry) that would make him fit to be a guest speaker at an elementary school for dyslexic slave children…and y’all gon let him represent you in the US Senate? Word!? Good Grief. I know Vic Rawl (former democratic state rep) is somewhere in a big beautiful white house, on a floral confederate plantation, reminiscing on his past 4 terms…and bathing in a tub of ”WTF’S?!?!”
Pacific Grove, California (PNN)– As shifting weather patterns threaten to push more oil towards the shores of Mississippi, Alabama and Florida, efforts to cease the irresponsibly shed oil have become increasingly more desperate. It would almost seem as though BP has exhausted every practical idea conjured within its creative think tank–each as unsuccessful as the next. After the failure of the Diamond Saw (only cutting midway through the pipe before getting stuck), they’ve begun to backtrack to previous stratagem (giant sheers). Which, while producing a deeper incision in the pipeline, still provided equally useless results.
A recent press conference with BP’s CEO, Tony Hayward, shows the chief executive grievously crying out for the assistance of an unassuming California resident, Arthur Curry…or as most of us would recognize him, Aquaman.
Here’s a gift not to be scoffed at. The first Brown Co. song recorded in over two years, produced by LO (for L’Orange Productions). Featured on the album, Eternal.
In a recent interview for Maxim’s “Sexiest Rapping Muppet Enthusiasts” issue (or Wilmington Star News…one of the two) I was quoted as saying, “The food here [California] sucks.” This, coupled with several billion other such daggering comments in regards to Santa Cruz’s passionless cultural cuisine has stirred quite the uproar within the towns denizens. I’ve become the subject of much discontent amongst the locals, who are proud of the sandalwood grass-root sandwiches and sweetless teas they seemingly enjoy during their lunch breaks and intermitted acts of hippiness. Well, in an attempt to avoid further persecution, I’d like to extend an olive branch and a good, firm…GET A GRIP! Look Santa Cruz, California, and confused culinary consumers the world over, I dont care how florid and picturesque the plate looks, save that crap for your third grade coloring contest! That junk taste like olive oil and air. I need some food with some love on it. I need to be able to taste the sweat from a bountifully breasted black woman, who got two jobs and fourty-six grandkids, a house in South Carolina where dont nobody live except some dirty a** stray dogs and a former preacher turned alcoholic, a bathtub full of epsom salt and a cornbread recipe that’ll send Jesus himself to the Piggly Wiggly to shop for the paper plates to serve it on. If not, at least a restaurant where two-thirds of the menu is cooked in some type of animal fat. With that said, here’s a photo-journal of my favorite places to eat. (Taken during my trip to Wilmington, NC)
(Fun Fact: The picture of the BoJangles meal is merely a stock photo I found on the internet. When I did finally make it to BoJangles and received my order, I was so romantically engaged in the meal I had forgotten to capture the moment on camera.)
