Eminem Sucks

Yeah that's right I said it.

With the upcoming release of his new album "Recovery" hitting shelves this Monday I am beginning to feel as though I am the only person not excited about this thing. A new Eminem album is the equivalent to a national holiday here in the United States. The guy is all over magazines, TV, radio, the internet, there is just no escaping the promotional machine for Eminem.

I know I will get attacked for asking this, but why? What is the big deal? His beats suck, his concepts are lame, his voice is annoying and his flow just ain't all that hot. He is this generations definitive cross over artist, appealing to both hip hop purist (some), soccer moms and everyone in between. When the reality is that he should be some niche genre artist with a cult fanbase at best, at worst just another aging back pack rapper with a Myspace page trying to recreate the golden age.

My feelings in regards to Eminems success have always been mixed. When I originally heard "My Name Is" it was a bit of a shock to see a white guy who kind of looked how I looked, talked like I talked and had a weird sense of humor similar to mine while being co-signed by the likes of Dr. Dre and played on MTV.

At the time things were different, if you were a white kid wearing white tee's and talking with an accent you were a bit of an outcast. The type of kid who skipped school, smoked weed and probably from a broken home. I was none of the above. But close enough to where I could easily relate to that crowd easier then the mainstream alternative.

Eminem was sort of like our anti-hero. He represented us in a way that had never been done before. White Americans have always had a counter culture figure to admire in some form or another but for my generation it had almost seemed impossible that our hero would emerge out of the hip hop scene, we were the types of kids nobody wanted to previously acknowledge existed. Americans have always liked their icons to have a little soul but not so much that they become dangerously "black".

And to me there in lies the problem with Eminem. As much as he represented a small minority of us, he quickly became the anti-anti-establishment. It wasn't long before the whole world was wearing their hair in a bleached ceasar and wearing white shirts. Rather then rebel in the fashion of someone who genuinly grew up admiring black culture and having a true love for hip-hop as he claimed, he instead allowed his people to crank up the promotional machine into overdrive and milk his cross over success for penny they could drip. The hell with bashing the Backstreet Boys, he was now on par with them.

So, to get back on point, what has Eminem done in the last ten years that is still worthy of his hype? Made one classic album, The Marshal Mathers LP, and five really crappy ones. Starred in a terrible racist biopic that should have been called Tarzan In Detroit. Was exposed by The Source Magazine as being a bigot when a tape he had recorded in his early twenties emerged of him bashing black women and calling blacks "ni**ers". Which ofcourse got swept under the rug by the mainstream media and resulted in the firing of The Source's co-founders Dave Mays and Raymond "Benzino" Scott from the magazine.

In ten years what has he done to make hip hop better? Think about how great the music was pre-Eminem then evaluate the quality of the ten years since. There is no comparison. For someone who is such a fond admirer of hip hops history how has he used his fame and exposure to make the culture better? Besides sign 50 Cent who's marketing campaign is that of Donkey Kong in a bulletproof vest. Why not sign someone with skill and talent as opposed to someone who is an easy sell.

When I look at the track listing for "Recovery" I think of everything that an album of this magnatude should be. Someone of Eminems stature could gather production and guest appearances from the best and brightest hip hop has to offer, he could provide the type of freedom in his rhymes that others are not allowed and attempt to usher in a new era of music, but he doesn't. Instead he gets a guest appearance from Lil Wayne and gets hooks from Pink and Rhianna. These are the types of gimmicks up and coming artist use to sell records. Not a guy who has sold eight hundred million units. Pathetic.

I could go on forever but I won't. On Eminems death bed I have no doubt that he will look back on his life and career and see that it was wasted. To me that is punishment enough. Hopefully he will just realize the error of his ways before it is to late and make amends for this. But I doubt that. Enjoy "Recovery".

Ninja Turtle Car!

Ok my bad for putting up the dudes liscense plate...Sort of feels like snitching or something...

Anyways...This car is fucking sick! Major props to the kat who airbrushed this...

Saw this when I was in Miami and thought I'd share.

RZA to direct Man With The Iron Fist!

The Rza, founding member and creative genius behind the legendary hip hop group the Wu-Tang Clan has just been handed over $20 million by Universal Pictures to shoot his kung fu epic The Man With The Iron Fist in China this September.

First off let me start by saying that this has got to be the most ambitious fanboy inspired project to come along since Grindhouse. Not only because it is being written and directed by The Rza, (who is also providing the soundtrack!) but because it was also co-written by none other then Eli Roth, the current king of nerdy gore flicks. What a combination, and if that wasn't crazy enough The Rza has apparently been training behind the camera over the years with the likes of John Woo and Quentin Tarantino (Rza contributed to the Kill Bill soundtrack).

All of this is fantastic news and I am no doubt excited, but I must admit that as a die hard Wu fan I am a bit skeptical.

There's no denying The Rza's genius, one only needs to listen to the early catelogue of the Wu for proof of that. Rza produced albums such as Raekwons "Only Built For Cuban Linx" and Gza's "Liquid Swords" were essentially movies in and of themselves, only on wax instead of film.

Problem is, that's The Rza of days long past. The grimey, grindhouse inhabiting fanboy that crafted classic album after classic album with a potent blend of capitalism, eastern philosphy and the influence of the five percent nation just doesn't exist anymore. Now days we are stuck with a Hollywood hippy that is a hack of his former self. Producing thrown together albums with luke warm beats and doing soundtracks for any bad movie that'll cut him a check.

As a fan I am really hoping this project works out, but I also know it is a matter of which Rza will show up. If we get the early to mid 1990's Rza then we will no doubt be in for a treat that should captivate audiences and possibly inspire more fanboy friendly films. On the otherhand, if we get the cgi friendly Rza of the 2000's who never met a movie like Blade 3 he didn't like, then we are all in big trouble.

Thankfully with Eli Roth overseeing the project things should work themselves out ok, and don't be surprised if Tarantino is lurking somewhere behind the scenes with a hand mixed up in this. Stay tuned.

Cult Film Review - God Told Me To!

God told me to...Watch this movie!

As if guided by the hands of a divine force, I strutted though the doors of my local used DVD retailer and within minutes had my callused fingers gripped around this Larry Cohen classic. For a whopping two dollars no less!

Tony Lo Bianco stars as Det. Peter J. Nicholas, a tough as nails New York City cop that finds himself investigating a string of homicidal rampages by seemingly ordinary Big Apple residents with a common theme, God told them to kill. What follows is a series of bizarre twist and turns that lead Peter Nicholas on a journey of self discovery as he comes face to face with the otherworldly truths behind the murders.

What makes this film miraculous is that it is one of the few times someone has dared taken a creative stab at showing the G-O-D on the big screen. Cohen doesn't just tackle religion, he kicks it in the balls and laughs. I doubt even the diabolical Hollywood remake machine would have the guts to touch this material.

While the film has obvious problems they are easily ignored by the uniqueness of Cohen's story. If your eyes shall find their way to this review, consider it gods will that you track down a copy of God Told Me To and give it a chance.

Cult Film Review - Society!

The biggest thrill for me as a collector of cult cinema is the random discovery of an underrated gem. Sure there are the definitive must see's and the obscure rarities that exist mostly in legend, but then there is that other category of films that you just have to discover for yourself. A film such as Society fits snugly into that pleasent little grey area between exceeding expectations and not having any expectations to meet in the first place.

Our story revolves around Bill Whitney, a typical All-American rich kid with a bad case of paranoia. For some reason Bill can't shake the suspicion that he doesn't belong, like he is somehow different from the rest of his family and the members of his elite Malibu community.

For roughly an hour the film plays as sort of your typical late eighties teen comedy-drama hybrid. We follow Bill as he weaves through conspiracy theories, argues with his best friend and eventually falls in love with the local slut.

As the films innocent exterior slowly sheds into the finale, a much different story begins to emerge. It seems Bill had good reason for his paranoia after all. Turns out the wealthy really are different from the rest of us, according to this movie not only because they have more money, but because they are a whole nother species entirely!

I won't get into details but the last half hour is so gooooey and gross that it could make Peter Jackson blush(Pre-LOTR days). Personally I have never really seen anything like this and the film earns major points for creativity.

If anyone reading this has ever had a desire to watch an X-rated version of Saved By The Bell featuring incest committing wealthy slime monsters that feed off of the poor then this is something you should check out immediatly. Actually, everyone with a taste for the bizarre should find a copy Society and give it the once over.

Cult Film Review - Death Sport!

Roger Corman's obvious cash-in on the classic Death Race 2000 re-unites him with the iconic David Carradine who plays the part of Kaz Oshay, a desert drifter forced to compete in a futurist motorcycle dueling game known as Death Sport.

Our story begins with Kaz Oshay under attack from a bunch of guys with these odd looking lazer guns that somehow cause whatever they hit to disappear into thin air. Sword in hand and ready for battle Kaz manages to send a few of these bad guys to hell before eventually finding himself captured and confined to a prison cell.

Located in the cell directly across from Kaz is a beautiful vixen known as Deneer, played by the lovely Claudia Jennings. The two make an instant connection and agree to help one another escape the Death Sport. Or something to that effect.

We are then introduced to the bad guys, one of whom is some sort of dictator-President type who gets his rocks off by torturing naked young women in a black room with a bunch of dangling glittery poles and is told by a doctor that his brain is rotting. The other is an ambitious trouble maker working directly beneath the dictator-President (or whatever the hell he is) and has plans to overthrow the current government with his own whacked-out regime.

Fast forward a bit and we finally get our first glimpses of the Death Sport. Kaz, Deneer, the doctor who told the dictator-President guy his brain was rotting and the doctor's son are forced onto motorcycles and made to do battle in an arena covered with land mines. For about ten minutes or so we are treated to some cool explosions and whatnot but nothing all that exciting. Eventually our heroes find an exit and manage to ride off into the desert. The bad guys are in hot pursuit.

Earlier in the film Deneers daughter was stolen by a bunch of mutants. Now free, Deneer and Kaz make it their mission to find the young girl and also evade the bad guys looking for them. When we finally get a good glimpse of the mutants they turn out to be nothing more then a bunch of weirdo's in hoods with the most unintentionally funny and downright cheapest, fake bulging eyeballs ever seen on film. While most viewers would sneer at such a thing I found the ridiculousness of the mutants costumes to be quite charming.

It should be noted that while much of Death Sport is cheaply made, I found the location choices to be highly impressive. The prison cells all have this off white dirty coloration on the walls and a very futuristic look fitting for the scenes they are used. There is also a abandoned factory seen later in the film that sort of drives home that post apocalyptic feel.

Although Death Sport certainly lacks the anarchist charm of Death Race 2000, the movie manages to stand firm and develop its own identity despite the shady motives of its producers. If you stumble across a cheap copy of Death Sport give it a shot, it may be exactly what you are looking for.

Cult Film Review - After Death!

Best known to American audiences as Zombie 4, the film bares zero relation to the original Fulci classic. Infact, I am still scratching my head as to why anyone thought it would be a good idea to slap the Zombie brand on the box cover to begin with.

The film opens by giving us a back story as to how this whole zombie epidemic began. A group of researchers trying to save the world set up operations on a remote island somewhere in the Caribbean (though the credits list filming locations in the Philippines) and manage to piss off the local voodoo big wig when his daughter dies of some disease or another.

From here things tend to get a little blurry. The voodoo guy kills off his wife with some spell just as a group of scientist armed to the teeth with assault rifles storm into his cave. When one of the scientist tires of the voodoo guys jibber jabber he unloads a clip into the man, pissing off his dead wife who explodes out of the floor as a demon. The make up on this broad was actually kind of decent, reminding me of the monsters from Lamberto Bava's Demons. Which is probably what they were going for.

We are then introduced to some family running through the jungle dodging zombies that wear black hooded robes. When the father is taken down and chomped on the mother orders her daughter to run away as fast as possible, handing her some sort of necklace deal that will play a bigger role later in the film. At this point I had to laugh and even get a little pissed off. The little girl runs about as fast as a bowlegged sea turtle and does so with a cheesy little grin on her face. Why the mom chose to turn around and get eaten by zombies is beyond me, it would have been easier to pick her little brat off the ground and just run to safety.

Twenty years later the girl returns to the island for some reason that's never really explained with a group of drunken mercenaries and some chick in a bikini. Heading up river in a boat, the crew hears loud groaning coming from the jungle and their engine mysteriously tanks on them. Conveniently there is a dock and the gang saddles up on the shore looking for mischief. It should also be known that a group of scientist are also stumbling around the island for no apparent reason at the very same time.

The cast here isn't all that impressive. Honestly it looks like the players were all taken from the set of a bad pornography film. Which could very well be the case considering one of the actors is Jeff Stryker star of such gems as Strykin It Deep, Powertool 2 and Santa's Cummin. I will say though that the guys playing Mercenaries look pretty damn cool and fit the parts well.

The second half of the film is pretty standard zombie stuff. A group of people stuck in a building, this case being a abandoned hospital, fight off hoards of the undead with gory results. One of the mercenaries finds a trunk full of M16s and distributes them amongst his pals. What makes this so interesting is that later one of the guys is bitten and uses the weapon on his friends. An easy comparison would be to that of Bub from Day Of The Dead but these aren't those kind of zombies.

While a lot of people would point to 28 Days Later as the origin of the fast moving zombie, this movie (along with Nightmare City) proves otherwise. They also occasionally lunge like frogs at their victims and have the ability to think.If I have any real complaints about this movie its that it runs about a half hour longer then it should. Had the filmmakers up' d the action and chopped some time off the story this would have made for a much more entertaining movie.

While I personally enjoyed After Death it's hard for me to actually envision anyone else being bizarre enough to sit through the whole thing with a smile on their face as I did.

For fans looking for a cool little zombie flick with zero story and loads of cool gore effects, I say check it out. Note to readers: The copy of After Death I have is the Japanese cut and may differ from the U.S. release better known as Zombie 4: After Death.

Cult Film Review - The Burning!

Attempting to cash in on the early 80's slasher in the woods craze started by Friday The 13th, writer/producer Harvey Weinstein unleashed upon the world a film that not only lived up to the standards set by F13th, but surpasses them.

The film opens by showing us a group of spoiled teenage campers pulling a prank on their drunken caretaker. Somewhere they dig up a worm covered skull, fill it with candles and carefully place it next to the caretakers bed as he sleeps. In what amounts to the funniest two minutes in horror film history. The pimply-faced youths gleefully pound their well-lotioned fist against the window waking the confused drunk, causing him to shriek with terror as he knocks over the flaming skull onto some chemicals. For nearly a minute we watch as this man catches fire, runs around in circles and rolls violently down a cliff before landing in a nearby pond.

After five years of intensive burn treatment our now permanently disfigured caretaker is released back into society and ready for revenge. In what now seems like a fitting tribute to the types of theatres and neighborhoods a film like The Burning would have originally played in upon its release. Our caretaker dressed in a hat and trenchcoat (presumably naked underneith) walks along a glorious street inhabited by sleezy peep shows, grindhouse theatres and hookers galore. One such hooker has the misfortune of luring the caretaker into her room where he filets her with a pair of scissors leaving the entire room completely soaked with blood.

Wisely choosing to work on The Burning over a sequel to Friday The 13th, f/x guru Tom Savini is given the perfect canvas to display the genius of his work. The most notorious of which is the infamous raft scene. When a group of campers take to the river in search of some missing friends they are greeted by a canoe filled with bloodied limbs and a pissed-off caretaker. Sliced off fingers, stabbed through the throat, and slashed along the forehead. Each camper is dismembered gruesomly one by one with a pair of garden shears. I imagine this film played incredibly well amongst teachers, counselers or anyone having to work with annoying teens.

Most reviewers would take a moment to gloat over all of the future stars this film deservedly hacks to pieces. I'm not going to do that. Instead I'd like to throw out the name Ned Eisenberg. Having also had a small role in the cult favorite The Exterminator, Eisenberg would later pay tribute to fanboys everywhere in the role of Wink Barnes in 1985's underrated comedy gem Moving Violations. Sadly, Eisenbergs career as a favorite amongst genre fans never panned out as he was basically lost in obscurity following tiny parts in a bunch of mainstream films nobody liked.

For fans who appreciate their teenage massacres bloody and in bulk, I strongly recommend The Burning.

Cult Film Review - Rolling Thunder!

After nearly a decade of being locked away as a P.O.W. in some Hanoi hell hole Major Charles Ranes has returned home to San Antonio to find that his whole life has moved on without him. His son, now almost a teenager doesn't remember him, the wife is out screwing around with the local goof troop law man and to top it off Major Ranes is stuck sleeping in the tool shed because he isn't capable of re-integrating back into society just yet.

The grateful town folk have scrounged up some gifts for the battered warrior, a shiny new red Cadillac and $2,500 worth of silver dollars, one for each day of his imprisonment. It is here that he begins to form a relationship with a military groupie that later becomes the Bonnie to his Clyde.

From here on out Rolling Thunder is hopped up on a bottle of crazy pills and bulldozes its way into history as one of the ultimate man films. After returning home Major Ranes is greeted by a group of outlaws hellbent on stealing the warheros $2,500 worth of silver dollars. These guys are bad to the bone, their acting superb and the violence they carry out --- remorseless.

Rolling Thunder isn't just your average revenge flick, it's better. A combination of Taxi-Driver meets No Country For Old Men with a grindhouse swag.

Tommy Lee Jones shows up in a supporting role as CPL. Johnny Vohden, a man who is just flat out bored with normal society. This is the most fun I have ever seen Tommy Lee Jones have on screen, whenever there is a gun in his hand with the possibility of a body being infront of the barrel Jones cracks this cold, demented smirk. The look of a man who is doing what he loves, killing.

Fans looking for a fast paced shoot'em up may be a little disappointed at the films slow pacing and the violence has little to no gore. Proving once again that the most effective violence is what takes place off screen.

Open Letter To Tiger Woods

Originally written December 20, 2009

Dear Tiger,Honestly Tiger, up until this past week I could really give a fuck less about you. But since your name has been left for dead and picked apart piece by piece by media opportunists and scavengers, I have actually grown a little bit of respect for you as a celebrity and as a man.

Let me start by asking that you please stop apologizing to people you don't know, for shit that isn't their business. This is a matter that needs to be worked out privately between you and your token wife that the "yes men" surrounding you demanded you marry so that screwballs in middle America will feel more comfortable buying Nike golf gloves and Cadillacs from. Lets be honest, your whole marriage is a sham, a publicity stunt and should from now on be acknowledged as such.

If I were you I would just openly admit that you enjoy sticking your love stick in as many whores as you can, what man doesn't? I know I do, hell, if I were the first billionaire athlete with access to unholy amounts of skankoids and expensive trim merchants at my disposal I'd never stop pune-banging either. Married to a token wife or not.

As far as the bimbo wearing your ring is concerned, stop apologizing to her also. I have a hard time believing she didn't have an understanding that this was part of the deal to begin with. What broad is so egotistical to believe that her stuff is slamming enough to keep the world's most over-hyped celebrity happy enough not to browse the buffet table every now and again? Living a glamorous life as the propped-up wife of a megastar and never having to deal with real dilemmas ever again isn't enough for her? Let that unappreciative golddigger go and publicly embrace your manhood.

Lastly, don't let the media O.J. you, my dude. There is nothing Americans loathe and fear more then a non-threatening black guy that turns out to be a regular Joe. Drop the Carlton act and be yourself. The sponsors are gone and you're free now. Tell the PGA to go fuck itself and make a YOUTUBE video of you wiping your ass with all of those corporate contracts. They need you more than you need them. If a major company doesn't want to do business with you then their competition probably does. One way or another you will always be a major attraction, nobody swings a golf club like you and probably nobody ever will. Controversies like this come and go, eventually a middle class white girl will get abducted or Brad Pitt will fist-fight Tom Cruise, and before you know it, you'll be a distant memory in the minds of a public with short attention spans.

You've been a sell-out your entire career. For once, keep it real.

Sincerely,

Lampin @ The 6th Borough

Good Riddance Hollywood Video!

Many moons ago, my neighborhood had a small video store that was independently owned and operated in an old decrepit mall called Gateway, which I believe was actually one of the oldest in the United States. This store was called Pot O' Gold Video and I spent a good portion of my youth renting from this unique little spot that was full of old VHS titles, video games and other assorted goodies. During the pog boom of the mid-1990's it was even the destination for serious collectors to purchase slammers!

Despite the store's awesomeness and close-knit relationship to the community, it had outlived its usefulness at the mall and for whatever reason decided it needed a change of scenery up the road and ultimately folded shortly after. Part of the reason for the store's exodus from the mall may have had something to do with the mall being torn down and replaced by a bigger, kinder, gentler outdoor shopping plaza complete with an abundance of big name retailers, and most importantly, a shiny new video store that carried DVDs! A change in format a lot of independently-owned stores had trouble transitioning over to.

This new video store, complete with expensive snack racks, was called Hollywood Video. A corporate entity bigger and better than any mom and pop store in every way, shape and form. The community loved it. Sure, it cost more to rent from, and the minimum wage employees changed with the wind, but it was bright and shiny with pictures of celebrities on the ceiling.

And so it sat, for nearly a decade. Until technology caught up, the economy tanked, and consumers strapped for cash showed the same amount of mercy on their beloved store that the store itself showed on the little guys they bulldozed out of business years before, NONE.

So now, thanks to their competitors like Blockbuster with their fancy little DVD vending machines, and NetFlix with their order-as-you-go-with-no-late-fee policies, a place like Hollywood Video has become an inconvenient dinosaur. And good riddance. Their expensive per-night rentals, their idiotic late fees, the overpriced used DVDs they plop up for sale, and the crappy selection of mainly name brand titles deserve to be put into the ground. If I cared about movies as much as I claim to, I should have grown the balls to throw a molotov cocktail at this dump years ago. But I had a sneaky suspicion that economic Darwinism and the greed of consumers would eventually kill the mighty beast.

Anyways, glad to see this place dead in the dirt and I hope their investors lost a ton of money on this dump.

Cult Film Review - Allegro Non Troppo!

One of my co-workers, a former video store clerk, insisted that I borrow a few animation tapes he had stored away in some box at his house. The next day I was handed a white paper bag, presumably the very same that were used by his former employers during the 80's. Inside were two VHS bootlegs still sealed in the very same sleeves they were originally rented from. One was "Heavy Metal" the other "Allegro Non Troppo".

Weary that this was some sort of scheme to trick me into accidentally viewing a homemade porno flick, my fears were immediately put to rest by the smooth sounds of old VHS crackling and burning its way through my TV screen. Allegro Non Troppo was about to begin.

Intended as an Italian parody of Disney's Fantasia, the comparisons are hard to ignore. Especially when the films narrator himself initiates the comparison. At one point speaking to a Disney spokesperson by phone, our host shouts angrily, "inbred Californian"! Sparking a long running theme throughout that while impressive, western culture is destructive and cannot be trusted. At least that is how I took it.

Daring to go further then Disney ever could have imagined, the film intertwines the hard hitting social commentary of the animated shorts with the live action hi jinks of a dysfunctional orchestra. Themes ranging from our superficial standards of beauty to evolution and the long term effects of war are ferociously touched upon. Whenever you think the film is about to take itself to seriously, the orchestra shows up to lighten the mood.

When not animated the film is shot as sort of a pseudo documentary. What immediately struck me was how strikingly similar in terms of style and atmosphere this all felt to the Italian Mondo Cane films of the same era. Crude humor and skillful camera work stirred with an emotionally charged score and a pinch of over acting. I suppose it is an antiquated style, but I'd love to see it refurbished one day. What these films lack in terms of good taste they more then make up for with charm.

While Pixar fans may find themselves disappointed, I would argue that this film combines a little bit of everything that made the 1970's such a splendid time to witness the evolution of ballsy filmmaking. Allegro Non Troppo is worthy of induction into any fan's collection of cult titles.

Emoting With A Whale!

Back in the day when I had money to burn me and my ex-girlfriend would spend typically every other weekend traveling back and fourth to Orlando, venturing out of various theme parks and whatnot. One of the more popular destinations ofcourse was Orlando's world famous Sea World home of Shamu the "Killer" Whale.

Now this has nothing to do with me being a liberal tree-hugging hippy that jerks off to saving poor innocent animals or anything like that, but I was happy and giggled a little this week when I signed on to AOL and was welcomed by the headline of a 12,000 pound, 30 year old male Orca named Tilikum who went nuts and murdered his trainer at Sea Worlds Shamu Stadium in Orlando.

For me sitting in that stadium has always been a miserable experience. I would often pass the time fantasizing over the whale jumping out of its tank and committing suicide into the first ten rows and splattering like a Gallagher watermelon on the unsuspecting idiots hoping to be tinkled with water from the show. When I wasn't imagining pieces of Orca corpse sprawled out like raw hamburger meat over dead tourist I was hoping the whale would snap and eat its trainer. Or maybe just biting off the head of the moron dumb enough to swim in small tank with a whale so blood spews everywhere like in Shogun Assasssin then spitting the head back into the audience. Tragically I was never fortunate enough to witness any of this first hand.

Some of you may be asking why I feel this way. It's simple. Such a magnificent creature has no business being confined to a cage just so it can be ridiculed and forced to perform stupid tricks so someone can sell stupid shirts and mugs to tourist. Regardless of how well they treated Tilikum the whale, no amount of female whale poon and dead fish can replace the wild manhood god meant for him to freely enjoy out in the infinite oceans of the world. He is the Al Bundy of the sea.

As a fellow mammal I guess I just put myself in the whales shoes and sympathize a little bit. This isn't a fat lazy alligator, a fish or a turtle we are talking about here. This whale would rather be out in the open ocean hunting prey and playing with his friends, snagging a few babe whales and chilling. The same way I'd rather be out sweating on a basketball court with a group of friends, hanging at a bar and doing man things. How miserable this poor whale's life must be. He is basically on death row with no hope to ever see freedom. His trainers are lucky it took him this long to finally go postal (well besides the two other deaths he was a part of!!!).

It is my hope that other whales will take note of this and form a rebellion against their human oppressors. Maybe it is time for some sort of revolution and Tilikum will be seen as their Caesar (Planet Of The Apes reference). Good luck to all the whales out there!

My New Nike Dunks!

Check out these sweet Nike Dunk Lows I picked up for a cool $24.97 at the Nike outlet store in Ellenton on my way to Miami.

Cult Film Review - Cop Killers!

"Don't ever put your hands on me again. Look man, I was just trying to relax. I'll keep my hands off the young virgin. Now if she comes on to me, that's another story".

The title of this film alone is enough to peak my interest. Not so much that I dislike cops, though I do occasionally find them useless, it's just that any film bold enough to sell itself under the title of "Cop Killers" has to be good. How could it not be?

Cop Killers tells the story of two low life hippies who's lives take a turn for the worse when a police road block prevents them from smuggling cocaine out of the desert. After a violent shoot out with the cops hippie drug dealers Alex and Ray hit the open Arizona road on a mission to sell their product to an even bigger drug dealer and escape out of the country as wealthy men.

From the perspective of a die-hard fan who lives and breathes for these types of movies, Cop Killers does not disappoint. This is the kind of film that forces people to take a shower after viewing, imagine a Sergio Leone western that's been nuked in a microwave and remixed by hippies.

Although not gory in abundance genre fans will walk away satisfied, if for no other reason then the f/x were handled by none other then Rick Baker. If gore is not enough, then the T & A, foul language, drug abuse, stolen ice-cream trucks and awesome folksy theme song that plays throughout will no doubt be enough to leave the whistles of fanboys wettend.

Cult Film Review Raiders Of Atlantis!

I originally fell in love with Raiders Of Atlantis upon viewing its trailer a few years back on one of the 42nd Street Forever trailer compilation disc. The vivid colors, the wild music, post apocalyptic insanity and best of all director Ruggero Deodato. I had to have this film in possession lickity split or my head was going to explode into a million little pieces. Problem was where in the hell could I find it at? For a month I browsed every new and used movie retailer in the Tampa Bay area determined to make a discovery on my own without having to rely on the blandness of purchasing off of the internet. Sadly, I had to face reality. Fortunately though I managed to snag a copy on Amazon for dirt cheap that came in this sweet hard cover case.

I'm not going to get into much detail about what this film is about because honestly after watching it a few times I still really don't have a clue. Something about thieves, scientist, a nuclear submarine and the lost continent of Atlantis. The only point that is ever driven home is that the black guy has changed his name from Washington to Mohammed and really, that's all the viewer needs to know in order to enjoy this film. The rest is a melting pot of chaos that never really pulls together but is a hell of a lot of fun to watch.

The first thing that catches you about this film is the ridiculous theme song. A morbidly gothic disco track that sets the tone for the rest of the movie and fits perfectly from scene to scene. Deodato makes the most of every shot by making sure that nothing uninteresting gets in front of his lens. Each actor portrays their character to the extreme and every villain is a work of art. My favorite character is the lead bad guy, some dude that dresses in skanky black leather and wears a glass skull over his face. Also worth keeping an eye out for are the suped up cars and motorbikes the villains travel in, equipped with cool spikes on the wheels.

Although Raiders Of Atlantis is a complete mess of a movie I recommend this as must see TV to any and all fans of cheesy Italian cash-in flicks. Unlike most, this one delivers on the goods. The action flies fast and furious, the gore is cool and the images of destroyed buildings and various urban landscapes are some of the best you will ever see. Check it out.

Lampin Goes To Wildsplash 2010

To say that I dislike local "Hits" and "Hip-Hop" station Wild 94.1 would be an understatement of the worst offense. The lame rotation of simplistic brain candy aimed at immature teens, the corny white DJ's who may or may not be reading idiotic urban dialogue from a script. It's enough to make a hip-hop fan keel over in pain and hurl their intestines out.

So, it is with some irony that I write this article not as a long-winded rant in opposition of the corporate culture vulture, but as a newly won-over fan of the station thanks to their annual spring break Wild Splash concert held at Clearwater's beautiful Coachman Park. OK, maybe fan is too strong of a word.

How I got to this point is fairly simplistic. A month or so back, me, the wifey and some midgets won a free ticket to the event from Wild 94.1's promotional booth at the Tampa Bay Rays Fan Fest at Tropicana Field. Although I rarely listen to the station these days because of its nagging ability to make blood sweat out of my pores and shoot from my ears, I was still able to name three of the acts performing at this year's Wild Splash and win the free ticket. Only problem was there were two of us and just one ticket.

Although I procrastinated until the last minute, it wasn't a hard decision for me to purchase the second ticket. Not only did me and the misses need a day out and about, but I had been up to my neck swimming in vinegar at the meat-pickling factory while dodging doctors eager to squeeze puss out of my numerous skin infections. I needed an escape, and even though Wild 94.1 is the manifestation of nearly everything in this life I am morally opposed to, I figured, hey, if I can't beat them then I might as well join them. At least this once.

After making our way through the hordes of creepy cult members that occupy downtown Clearwater, we arrived just in time around 2:30pm to witness the first act to hit the stage, local artist Javon Black featuring Lil Kee. As a supporter of local hip-hop I will admit that neither Javon Black nor Lil Kee are really my thing, but boy can they make catchy tunes. I have little doubt that Javon Black is destined for stardom, or at least his fifteen minutes of fame. Their live show is on point and professional. Kicking things up a notch they brought out surprise guest Strizzo, a popular local artist known for his jook city schtick. These guys may not have the budget or national name recognition of the other artists, but they can kick start a party with the best of them.

Up next was a snoozer of a performance by Lil Wayne protege, Yo Gotti. Maybe I am a little bit of a biased hater but nothing about this guy appeals to me. It's like a rehash of a bad gimmick I have already seen done better and will probably see a hundred more times in the near future. To make matters worse he really only rhymed for about seven of the twenty minutes he was on stage. The rest of the time was spent playing lyrics from Drake and Lil Wayne. Or at least that's how I remember it.

Yo Gotti was followed up by Trina who hit the stage surprisingly early considering her star power. Like Yo Gotti she cop'd out by burning her time with Lil Wayne songs in between her attempts at sleep walking through her set. You know, it really says something about an artist's popularity when other artists they are not even associated with need to use your jams to hype up their crowd. Needless to say, Trina was a big disappointment, especially since she was one of the main artists I was looking forward to seeing.

The biggest surprise of the day came thanks to the tight jean wearing, bright color shirt rocking duo The New Boyz. I had previously passed these two off as nothing more than a couple of untalented teenage hacks. Man was I wrong, these kids are the real deal with the talent to go places. Sure, it's not really my thing, but I can understand their appeal to a younger demographic. Some of their older counterparts should be taking notes from these guys on how to properly wreck a stage.

We took a few minutes after The New Boyz set to soak in the picturesque view of the water from Coachman Park before indulging in some five dollar Budweisers while taking a stroll through the carnival-like atmosphere of the event. Several local artists were on hand to push their wares including Acafool who's underground hit Hata Blockaz has gained somewhat of a cult status around these parts. The main focus for me were the numerous scantily-clad women who had taken it upon themselves to entertain the crowds with their dancing. The misses obviously didn't appreciate this too much but that's what the five dollar beers were for. A fair trade-off if you ask me.

Also in attendance were the fine folks of the U.S. Army who in my humble opinion have no business at a hip-hop concert, especially on this, the eighth anniversary of the Iraq War, where so many of our fellow peers have been shuffled off to die for the interest of big business. I digress.

Around 5 in the afternoon, the very talented B.O.B. took the stage. I've been aware of B.O.B. for a minute but not really familiar with his stuff until seeing him live. What a brilliant all around musician who is severely under-appreciated. This guy plays the guitar, piano, you name it. Unfortunately, I got the impression from the crowd that this man's style was a bit over the audience's head. If a song isn't insulting towards women (black women, especially) about selling crack or getting drunk at a club then it probably isn't likely to get a very warm welcome from this station or its listeners. Thankfully, B.O.B. has managed to slip through the cracks with his hit single "Nothin' On You". I hope this man is given the opportunity to stay in the limelight and grow as an artist, because this is exactly what the music industry is in need of.

By the time B.O.B. finished his set it was noticeable that the crowds were growing anxious after a long day of standing in the sun in anticipation of headliner Plies. I myself was a mere seconds away from being vomited on by a girl who smashed into me on her way to the ground as she fainted. There were several such incidents just by where I was so I can only imagine what the rest of the park must have been like. It was obvious to me that much of the crowd were more familiar with a club atmosphere than that of a concert and completely out of their element. Especially the women in attendance who seemed more concerned with pulling each other's hair out and brawling like men then they were with having a good time. A theme that would be revisited on several occasions later in the evening.

As dusk approached, the artist I had anticipated seeing the most, Damian Jr Gong Marley came to the stage. Booked last minute as a replacement to dance hall artist Sean Paul, I considered this a huge upgrade. His father Bob (you may have heard of him) is one of the few musicians I can honestly say with a straight face has my utmost respect so it was an honor to say the least to be able to witness his seed carrying on his legacy with thought-provoking yet infectious grooves while carving his own niche. Damian really rocked the crowd, blending his set with his own songs and a few of his father's. I will say this, Damian doesn't look and sound just like his father, but when you are within feet of the stage it is pretty damn spooky how closely they resemble one another. He rounded out his performance with his two biggest songs to date, Road To Zion which sounds amazing live and the song I wish all hip hop sounded like, Welcome To Jam Rock.

Finally at around 8, headliner Plies was greeted by a raucous crowd of deranged women (if you want to call them that) and blood-thirsty teenage girls. In nearly every direction there were females pushing and pulling, cursing and fighting. It was pandemonium. He performed all of hit singles "Becky", "Medicine", "Buddies" and about a half dozen others before being joined on stage by label mate, Fella. About a half hour in, Plies noticed a young girl with a sign that said it was her birthday. He pulls her out of the audience, gives her the huge chain from around his neck plus his bracelet, then asked her what she wants for her birthday and hands her ten thousand dollars. I'm still trying to figure out how this guy turns on a profit on his shows just handing stuff out like that.

Anyways, all in all, Wild Splash 2010 was an amazing time, and most importantly, a revelation for what mainstream hip-hop should look and sound like. When I turn it on 94.1 with the exception of Old School Lunch and The Sunday Session, every hour is just a repeat of the same songs by the same artists doing basically the same whack style of music (if you want to call it that). On the flipside, Wild Splash, whether intentionally or not, was a colorful showcase of how diverse this hip-hop culture actually is. There is no reason the likes of The New Boyz and Trina cannot be played in the same hour along side Damian Marley and B.O.B. (B.O.B.'s more conscious stuff anyway).

Although I will probably remain an opponent of the station, as long as they continue to put on shows like this, I will be there. For a $22 ticket you just cannot find a better deal, especially when it comes with all the eye candy and second-hand smoke you can shake a stick at.

R.I.P. Guru

Written April 20, 2010.


Wow. I'm in a complete state of shock at the moment over word that legendary emcee Guru, one half of the iconic hip hop group Gangstarr is dead at the age of 43 after a battle with cancer. This is heartbreaking to say the least.

During times of tragedy and times of joy the lyrics of Guru, real name Keith Elam, have been there for me. It's hard to truly summarize at this moment because of all the emotions currently stirring, just how much this man's work has meant to me. He isn't alone in his efforts, I have plenty of favorite hip hop artists, each special to me in their own ways, but none have ever been quite as unique as Gangstarr.

I became a believer around 2001 after hearing a track by Gangstarr called "Above The Clouds" featuring Inspectah Deck off of the compilation CD Wu-Chronicles Chapter 2. The intro speech of President JFK over a jazzy DJ Premier beat and the lyrics by Guru would forever change how I viewed myself as a hip hop fan. I would later go on to collect much of the group's albums including such classics as Daily Operations and Moment Of Truth. Daily Operations, in particular, still receives a spin at least once a week.

What I loved most about Guru was his ability to never stay pigeonholed to any one style. The man could go from sounding as politically insightful as Chuck D in one song to sounding as smooth as Snoop Dogg in the next. I have a great deal of respect for Guru over the fact that he never needed to sell out and portray himself as anything other then who he was. Guru never had to run around in a bullet-proof vest disrespecting other artist and being a gimmick because he truly loved the craft of emceeing and allowed his lyrics to speak for themselves.

The Internet will be abuzz with conspiracy theories over Guru's troubled relationship with the other half of Gangstarr, DJ Premier, for years to come. I will reserve my theories on that out of respect for Guru and the legacy of Gangstarr, what's done is done. But I will say that it would have been nice to see the two reconcile before it had to come to this. Both are legends, Premier continues to be one of the top producers in the industry, but without each other they just seem incomplete. What a tragedy a partnership so beautiful had to die so miserably. That's just how these things go I guess, success has a way of changing relationships.

It is my hope that the death of Guru re-invigorates an interest amongst younger hip hop fans to explore an era from a not-so-distant past when hip hop stood for something both artistically and culturally. Regardless of what happens, Gangstarr will remain a staple of my collection for the rest of my life. Thank you to Guru for the many years of hard work that has been invested into the quality of his work, it will live on forever.

My 10 favorite Hip-Hop Films

My ten favorite hip-hop films. Here they are in no particular order.

Belly - 1998's Belly would bring together a who's who of hip-hop acting talent led by acclaimed music video Director Hype Williams for what is arguably the most underrated film of the 1990's and what I believe to be the peak of hip hop influenced cinema. I will never understand how film yuppies and art snobs could spend so much effort drooling over the likes of Tarantino, Kevin Smith and others from the '90's indie film boom yet sleep so hard on an incredible talent such as Hype Williams. The intro to Belly is the greatest four minutes of cinema ever filmed (or at least my favorite). Check it out.

Boyz N The Hood - This is the first movie I ever sat through in a theater solo. I was about eight years old and given the option of seeing either this or the other big film that weekend, The Rocketeer. Thankfully I made the correct choice and to this day I have yet to forget the experience of witnessing this masterpiece on the big screen.

Menace II Society - No such list would be complete without the inclusion of the Hughes Brothers. Before they were hacks making big-budget trash like The Book Of Eli, they were renegade filmmakers in their youth directing classics like Dead Presidents and most importantly, Menace II Society. This is probably the bleakest and most nihilistic film of its kind. Larenz Tate should have been nominated for an Academy Award for his role as O-Dog.

New Jack City - Scarface homages are a dime a dozen when it comes to hip-hop films. But none are quite as good as Mario Van Peebles' New Jack City. There is a lot to love about this film, but the greatest thing is the portrayal of a lovable crack head played by a then barely-known Chris Rock.

Do The Right Thing - Spike Lee's epic portrayal of a Brooklyn neighborhood on the edge of chaos is the granddaddy of all hip hop films. Not only is it absolutely brilliant, one of the greatest pictures ever made, it was also a vehicle used as a promotional tool by Nike to advertise the Air Jordan sneaker, creating one of the most genius marketing campaigns of all time. Of course, one cannot mention Do The Right Thing without also mentioning its soundtrack, in particular the greatest hip-hop anthem ever made, Public Enemies' "Fight The Power".

Juice - I have probably seen this movie a hundred times and everytime I expect to see a different conclusion. I have never really been into the music of Tupac Shakur (I always thought he was a hypocritical phony), but I give him props for his performance in this film as Bishop. Had the man lived I have no doubt that the sky could have been the limit in terms of his acting abilities.

Friday - No doubt the definitive comedy of this genre. As a lifelong Ice Cube fan I have always felt that he is at best when his surroundings are more down to earth and basic, whether it be his music or films. Friday is a perfect example. The thing that is so great about this movie is that anybody can sit down and watch it and still find it enjoyable whether they are fans of hip hop cinema or not. The only thing that sucks about this movie is that it is to blame for the successful mainstream explosion of Chris Tucker (who was brilliant in Dead Presidents and Friday but sucks in everything else).

He Got Game - As a teenager who lived and breathed on basketball courts, He Got Game maintains a special place in my heart. Not because it is such a good movie, but because it encompasses every single aspect of basketball culture, from the love of the game to our love of the apparel we wear playing it. Once again Nike manages to sneak in an Air Jordan commercial about half way through. They don't stop there though, nearly every classic sneaker that was released around this time period makes a cameo in this film, heck, even a pair of Kobe Bryant Adidas makes an appearance. Also worth mentioning is that Public Enemy re-united along with their production crew The Bomb Squad for all new material for the films soundtrack.

Don't Be A Menace - The Wayans were such an important part of my childhood that it would be almost criminal not to include something with them on this list. I remember back in the day when this was released I was almost terrified to go and see it in the movie theater. Having just seen movies like Pulp Fiction and From Dusk Til Dawn the Mirimax logo had an almost dangerous feel to it (mind you I was about eleven at the time), add onto the fact that this was a black movie and during this time in my cities history things were also a little tense. Nonetheless, my father forced me into seeing this opening weekend and to this day it is one of the funniest movies I have ever seen.

House Party - I was in the first grade (I think) the first time my parents let me rent this from the video store. At the time it was the greatest thing I had ever seen and probably rented it thirty more times back to back. I learned a lot from this film, all of which I'm sure has permanently scarred me in some way or another.