Oaktown pride, fo' sheezy
First of all, happy High Five Day, and happy Get High Day as well. (Thanks to Jeffro for the heads up on High-5 Day).
Now, 4/20, i.e. 4 divided by 20, is .2, as in 2Pac, which brings us to Too Short, and, via an admittedly circuitous segue, to Oakland rap. So, I stumbled upon this article about the current state of Oakland rap, and wanted to share it with y'all. Now, you know I hella heart Oaktown, but I have to admit I've been caught sleeping on this Hyphy thing. 
However, after reading that one of Keak da Sneak's tracks "samples the Commodores' 'Brick House,' a rattlesnake and what sounds like two guys enjoying a plate of chicken wings," I am so going out and buying his latest album, "Kunta Kinte." (Side note to Jess, you might wanna check this shit out too, since I know how you love Tom Waits, and the writer of the article claims that "Keak is sort of the Tom Waits of rap, with a voice that sounds as if he's been gargling Pennzoil and has a penchant for sonic experimentation.")
This is coming off my (also belated) discovery of Three 6 Mafia, whose song "Life Or Death (Killa Klan Kaze)" Jess and I were fortunate enough to hear in my car at about 5am a couple Fridays ago en route to extended Amnesia afterhours debauchery. We immediately realized that it blew the ass off of even the darkest of breaks tracks, as far as pure evil goes, and therefore became our theme song for the night, and dare I say, for my year. Seriously, it's like if Satan stopped by some dingy Dirty South recording studio, laid down some rhymes, then played it back on 33. And it fucking rocks!OK so I just read this post over and totally realize that it doesn't really hold together as a cohesive missive, but you know what, you're high anyways so who cares!
posted by stefbot @ 11:25 AM
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I finally found something compelling enough to get my ass off the blog couch and onto the blogfloor. 
One of these days I still plan to get around to my Mardi Gras post...there's just so much to say so I've been avoiding it. But also writing it in my head at the same time. So it'll happen eventually. To tide you over, here's a little nugget: on the first night in New Orleans, Jeffro and I rode bikes around to various bars in the Faubourg Marigny neighborhood with our lovely host, Nelson. We got completely hammered and while riding home in the rain, both Jeffro and I fell off our bikes. In fact, Jeffro fell off several times. At one point, we believe after getting his pants caught in his bike chain, he did a face plant and ended up with blood all over his face. We raced back to Nelson's house and started wiping rubbing alcohol directly onto Jeffro's face, while he sat there, unflinching, saying "Why were we riding so fast? Why are you wiping my face?" Finally we had him get up & look in the mirror - he had no idea he had blood streaming down his face.