Hirp Pop

In Hip-Hop, “beef” is fairly common. It goes back to the beginning of the genre. Originally, rappers used to compete directly. They’d trade insults and try to one up each other and it was all fun and games. It was like friends just teasing each other. At some point things took a turn for the worse. What always struck me as funny is here are these supposed badass thugs who don’t give a shit about anyone or anything. In fact they brag about how little they DON’T care about anyone or what anyone thinks, and this is one of the aspects of the music I enjoy so much. But the second someone disses them or makes them the butt of a joke, then all hell breaks loose. It’s gotten to the point that violence isn’t just a threat, it’s nearly a guarantee. Records are made in attempts to end careers. And sometime’s it’s successful, like when 50 Cent pretty much ended Ja Rules career.

Beef isn’t just a hip-hop phenomenon. Ask Axl and Cobain. There’s Toby and the Chicks or Van Zant and Neil Young. See Mariah and Whitney. Why do you think Harry Connick Jr got caught with a gun back in 92? He wanted to bust a cap in Michael Boltons ass for beating him out of a Grammy. The last example is pure speculation.

But no diss record or beef has done more damage than one pop song by a former boy band member. Justin Timberlake, “Cry Me a River,” not only ended Britney Spears’ career, it has totally turned her life upside down. The former pop princess is now walking firmly, or stumbling may be more accurate, in the hooker heels once worn by Anna Nicole. And it all stems from Justin outing her for cheating on him. She hasn’t been the same.

Hell, look her up on wikipedia.com. Her career is broken down like this with some highlights:
1998-2000: Early commercial success (
2001-2003: Career development (became first female artist to debut at #1 with her first 3 releases)
2004-2005: Great Hits. First sentence about this period of her life starts, “After her marriage to Keven Federline,”

And her personal life is broken down to pre-2004, and 2004-2006 “Marriage, children and divorce”

So maybe this explains why she passed on doing a duet with Justin, that might have been the final insult. To wreck a career, and then come back to them as their last hope is pure genius. Evil genius, but genius none the less. Justin did more for revenge than Michael Corelone.

The evidence is clear, well on to points. One, Justin killed her career. Secondly, I need serious fucking help.

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Last thought for the day. I got a new pair of sneakers a couple of weeks ago, New Balance. So fuck Air or any other gimmick they come up with, these sneakers have shoe laces that actually stay tied. That should be their selling point. I can’t fully express how happy I am to have low maintenance shoelaces.

Arsenio Hirp Show

Driving into work today, I was listening to “Mike and Mike in the Morning” on ESPN Radio. Wait a second I have two things to say before going forward. The beginning of the last sentence totally gave me an Arsenio Hall flashback. Remember when he was “driving in from Cleveland”? What happened to him? Shouldn’t he be hosting a reality television? Secondly, Mike & Mike is the highlight of my morning. It beats the shit out of any pooping.

Anyway, this morning the guys were responding to a listeners email. She, and the fact that this is worth noting will be apparent in just a second, was in a bit of a predicament because she has a dinner to attend Saturday night, in which she’s going to introduce her parents to her boyfriends’ parents. And she claims to be nuts about this guy. But at the same time her dinner is scheduled, so is her fantasy football draft. So she isn’t sure what to do. Let’s just take a second to acknowledge how cool it is that a chick is that serious about fantasy football, and it isn’t because it will give her three hours of quiet while her husband and friends huddle around a table in someone else’s basement.

She doesn’t know what to do, and so the fellas were debating what her options were. She could blow off the draft and drop out of the league, she could ask for a reschedule, she could send someone to draft in her place or she could skip the dinner. She’s having a tougher time with this than George W Bush had when deciding to invade Iraq or not. I understand the dilemma very well. I’ve been a fantasy baseball or football owner almost every year since I was 12. Scheduling a draft has becoming increasingly difficult. Thanks to the internet, it’s now possible to have owners spread across the country. But it’s a bitch to get everyone’s schedules lined up. To do so, then have something that in all honesty is more important pop up, is a real beyatch. And it happened to me this year.

My draft is actually set for tonight, but as life does sometimes, it sent me a curveball. After setting the draft date, a buddy of mine that lives in Chicago told me he was coming to KC. The irony is, one of his reasons for making the trip is to be apart of his fantasy draft in person. But he gets in a few hours after my draft starts, luckily we use the auction to pick our players, so I have it a little easier. My plan is to just blow my load early and get out of there. Sounds like the standard guy plan for a Friday night, right? But standard guy plans don’t exist in these situations. You haven’t seen ridicule till you’ve seen a guy leave either a poker game or draft early. But I told my buddy that he and his wife could stay at my apartment this weekend. So I have to be there to let them in and give them a key.

But technology has given us more than the internet as a draft aid. We have cell phones, and even more importantly, we have text messaging. Push comes to shove, I can draft as I drive up i35. Risks be damned, some things are just that important. Which brings us to the conflicted girls solution. She should text message her picks in. She can hide the phone under the table, take long multiple restroom breaks or just play the “work calls” card. His parents might be annoyed, but they’d also be impressed by her dedication. So what if they aren’t clear on what she’s so dedicated to. The dedication is what matters here. And isn’t that what they would want for their son? And in return, he might just be able to get her to try the one thing they hardly ever do, or the thing they never do. But if she isn’t able to get Bush that night, than I doubt he will either. Reggie Bush, you pervs.

Hirp On...

I’m wondering if Michael Vick’s people have already contacted the networks to set up his reality television show. Come on, I hate reality TV, but “Michael Vick: Redemption (or Salvation)” is a sure fire hit. He could go around apologizing to various groups, we could watch him work out, go through therapy, walk his dogs, interact with both his supporters and detractors and whatever else he needs to do to try and get his life in order after serving his time. Or maybe it’s best to wait till he’s nearing his release from prison to make this deal.

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Last night I watched “Californication” with my Shixa, have I mentioned you really need Showtime? Anyway, she hit the nail on the head with an observation. We were talking about how David Duchovny’s character and his sexual habits, and she mentioned that it’s interesting to see a guy portrayed as a male whore. She’s absolutely right. Typically, we see a guy sleeping around and we’re lead to believe that this makes him cool or a player. But here we see a guy doing it for the same reasons we always think women “whore” around. He hates himself. It isn’t to brag, or so he can add notches to his belt. He is so angry at himself for fucking up with the woman he loves and not being a good enough father, so he is self medicating. Sometimes he uses booze, sometimes he uses broads. There’s nothing cool about it, and you don’t envy him for it. It’s just sad. In a really dark and funny way, but it’s still just sad.

Hirpasms

I really need to step up my blog game, as the kids would say. I’m not sure what has happened. I tell myself that it’s normal, just a phase. I’m sure everyone has swings in their blogging frequency. I haven’t had the time, I’ve been tired, I just haven’t felt it lately. They are all excuses, I know this. It comes down to just making the effort and finding the time. It isn’t as if every entry requires a substantial amount of time, sometimes I can pound out a quick yet quality post in just a few moments. So I’m going to make an effort going forward. That’s the only promise I can make right now.

• I’m a bit bummed that I didn’t win the $314 million powerball this weekend. It isn’t like I was planning on spending every dime. I had a very well thought out plan for the money. I’m considering pressing charges against the winner, er, thief who stole my millions from me. Revenge will be mine, oh yes, it will be mine.

• No one, not even a Powerball winner, has more luck than Vinnie Chase and the boys. Who else runs into Kanye West at an airport and bums a ride to Cannes? Can private jets really just change their flight plans like that? That should probably worry us right? Bin Laden supposedly has a bit of disposable income, why doesn’t he just charter his next terrorist attack?

I read that we will never hear Mrs. Ari Gold’s first name, but at some point we will find out Turtle’s real name. I’m guessing it’s not something as boring as Anthony, but something more like Anofrio or Salvatore.

• I love it, I just read that Michael Vick said, “through this situation, I’ve found Jesus.” He also apologized to his fans, the NFL and pretty much everyone else. Why can’t he just tell the truth? He’s sorry he just cost himself something like $80 million because he was a complete idiot? No need to talk about Jesus, or a fake apology to the kids. He’s sorry he’s going to be spending a nice portion of his life in a very cold cell. He’s sorry that instead of cashing checks, he has to write large checks to pay for his mistake. He’s sorry that he got caught, and that’s about it. I’d love to see an honest apology like that.

Really, what are we supposed to think? Oh, you’re sorry and on top of that you found Jesus. I guess that makes it all worth it. I think we would all be better off had he never found Jesus if that meant he also never found dog fighting. Apologizing after you cop a plea doesn’t mean shit. It’s like a kid apologizing for skipping class, only after getting caught. After the fact apologies have about as much value as shit in a paper bag.

• So Britney Spears turned down a duet with Justin that was to be produced by Timbaland. Basically, she’s drowning in the middle of the Pacific and when a 60’ yacht came to her rescue, she thought treading water was a better option. Those sharks nipping at her white trash heels must not be a concern for her. Seriously, she’s completely retarded. Everything he touches goes platinum right now, and everything she touches turns into litigation.

Hirpsonal

Every family has their own bag of crap deal with. This may not sound like some great revelation, but for me it kind of is. For years I felt I was related to what I described, both in jest and seriously, as the Jewish Kennedy’s. There’s aside of my family that I always felt could do no wrong. Even this blog is linked, literally, to their successes. As a kid I often bragged about their successes to the point one might have thought they hired a minor to handle their publicity. All my friends knew my Uncle designed their dad’s Z, and today my friends know when they are seeing an ad on television that my cousin did. Just as they know that my other cousin is both a published writer and a teacher in a small LA community, Beverly Hills. If I made anyone a mix CD, it certainly contained songs by both cousins.

But for me, their successes were deeper than just what I could brag about. When I see them, it’s almost like watching great friends hang out more than watching parents and kids. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember. Like many families, our events often included some competition: Water volleyball, touch football in a field on a cold Minnesota fall night, tennis (when Americans played), basketball and heated debates. Being that it’s our nature to be competitive; I couldn’t help but compare my side of the family against that side. It isn’t that I came up in a broken horrible family, but the contrast was apparent. Where they went to world class universities and left their marks, I struggled to graduate high school and spent less time in college than Lohan has spent in rehab. Where they have these exciting, dreams come true careers, I spend most of my days daydreaming at work. Their spouses are summer blockbusters with the rest of the family, the spouses my siblings choose were, um, acquired tastes.

But last night I was informed, without any real detail, that they aren’t without their own family business. And I found myself oddly relieved. The perception I had was unfair to both them, and my self. It reminded me that I do call them the Jewish Kennedy’s, and that Kennedy family was far from perfect. As successful, charming, engaging and impressive they are, they aren’t without their own flaws.

Showtime

Found a new show kids. If you don’t have Showtime by now, you need to get it. Call Time Warner or your cable provider today and sign up. By now you should know I wouldn’t lead you astray. First of all, you’ve been missing out on “Weeds” which is on par with “Entourage,” I shit you not. Season three just kicked off last night, and after you call and order Showtime you should run out to Blockbuster and rent the first two seasons.

Here’s the premise of the show: Cute and sassy soccer mom with two boys starts selling weed in her suburban (very Johnson County) California town after her husband dies. Soccer mom played by Mary Louise Parker, whom I have a slight crush on after her time on “The West Wing.” Her timing is perfect, and she is equally charming when chewing on the straw of her frozen Starbucks drink, dealing her youngest and his gangsta rap song or home made terrorist video, or dealing dime bags to her neighbors. Kevin Nealon plays her accountant and number one customer, and he hits it out of the park. Also hitting homer runs is Romany Malco, who you’ll recognize from 40 Year Old Virgin, and Elizabeth Perkins. There’s a fantastic mix of interesting pot, I mean, plot twists, ichronic, er ironic, commentary about life in the ‘burbs and the highs of parenting. Damnit, I meant ups and downs. Okay, that really didn’t work as well as I had hoped. Basically, it’s a good damn show and you should be watching it.

Last night Showtime premired a new show, “Californication.” David Duchovny plays, tell me if you’ve heard this before, a struggling narcissistic writer trying to find the inspiration to reclaim his voice and spends his time drinking and bedding more women than Wilt Chamberlain in his prime. He’s separated from, yet very interested in his ex and mother of his 12 year old daughter. And evidently, he often smells like pussy. How much wishful thinking do you think goes in to the writing? You know all the writers on staff are wishing this was their life. That they really were these tortured souls, and even though they are complete assholes to everyone they know, gorgeous women just can’t wait to “defile” themselves for these pasty nerds who only have great conversations with their keyboards.

Let’s run down movies and shows that had a similar premise: Permanent Midnight, Basketball Diaries, “Studio 60,” Closer, Wonder Boys, Sideways, and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Anyway, that’s just for those keeping score at home. “Californication” may not be the most original idea, but it’s well done. I’ve never really cared for Duchovny, but he plays a likeable jackass. He’s arrogant, un-apologetic and strangely sincere. After one episode, I’m definitely looking forward to seeing more, but it isn’t a “can’t miss.” I’d DVR it, but I as of now, I wouldn’t feel as if I have to watch it as soon as humanly possible. There’s just isn’t a “Sopranos” rule in effect, but that could change.

Trippy

Last week I made my annual trip to Chicago. It’s always a good time, but this trip was slightly different. Normally I go up there, meet my buddy Red and we stay at our friend Bum’s place with he and his wife. They have this badass pad, which is the perfect place to crash at. Lately, we’ve been scheduling the trip around the Mets-Cubs series, and this year was no different. Although we didn’t actually get to Wrigley to catch any of the games, it still played a significant role in the scheduling.

This year was different because Red now lives in Chicago, and he couldn’t be there for most of the festivities. The biggest difference was the newest attendee, and the fact that it was our first trip together. I won’t downplay this, it’s a pretty big deal in the world-o-Hirp. As expected, we had a great time. But the best part might be the fact that it’s directly opened the door to our next trip. See, our flight out Friday was delayed. First it was 30 minutes, than an hour. Right before the second delay was announced, they informed us the flight was overbooked and they were looking for volunteers to give up their seats.

We gave it some thought, being that we didn’t want to get into Chicago at some God awful time. But in the end we took the deal. In return for taking the next flight, we were given a voucher for $100 plus the cost of our ticket to Chicago. And the next flight was just an hour later. A phenomenal win for us. Almost immediately we began discussing our next trip, being that we now had free or nearly free airfare to just about anywhere worth going to.

Las Vegas, New York, Phoenix, LA, maybe Seattle or Austin. The possibilities seemed endless. In a perfect world, I’d have a bank account that could support regular trips to exciting locations. As we all know, it’s far from a perfect world. We talked about the pros and cons of each city, debated if we wanted to invite friends or go just ourselves. Did we want to go visit friends or family or bypass all that? I started emailing some of our friends who just so happen to have their own vouchers that are itching to be used, to gauge their interest in going someplace with us. Then it hit me, the perfect place for the next trip.

If it is good enough for Michael Corelone to relocate the family to Lake Tahoe, it’s good enough for me. Tahoe has it all. There’s gambling, site seeing, exploring a new area, and peace and quiet and it’s very affordable. I looked online for some hotels, and came across a place called MontBleu. It looks amazing, and being that it used to be Caesars, I’m pretty confident that it is. From what I’ve seen during my research, Tahoe and Reno seem to be more like the old Vegas. Just writing this makes me giddy.

Hirp Diction

I’ve been a bad blogger, and I don’t mean that in the Jules Winnfield way. I make no excuses, I just ask for forgiveness. I hope to re-establish myself as the eForce you came to know, and I know I’m overstating things just a tad.

Enough of the sappy shit, lets do this thing.

Last night Barry Bonds finally hit the record breaking home run. We all knew it was coming, some of us were excited about the prospects, some anticipated the event like a trip to the dentist and some were just curious to see both the achievement and the reaction. I fit the description for all of the above. After he hit the record breaking home run, which I heard about from a chime on ESPN.com and my girlfriend suggested we put ESPN on (how cool is she?!) we flipped the channel in time to see the celebration. Hank Aaron was pure class, and his statement erased any criticism I had of him for not being there in person. In retrospect, he was absolutely right to not be there and to handle it the way he did. I also thought Bonds was dignified and classy in his thank you to the fans, if only he’d show that side of himself 51% of the time rather than 5%.

Later I laid in bed mulling over all that had happened in the game I love. It dawned on me that this “scandal” isn’t any different than most modern day scandals. Driving in to work this morning, Peter Gammons said it best on Mike & Mike in the Morning. He said that this isn’t the “steroid era” as everyone keeps referring it to as, but it’s the era of “whatever it takes.” Not just in sports, but in our society. We have Starbucks shutting down local coffee shops in every big city and small town. Target, Wal-Mart and megastores have replaced mom and pop shops. Our politicians are willing to say anything about their opponents. The Catholic Church pays millions and millions of dollars to deal with it’s skeletons. There’s no one taking the moral high road. But we want our sports to be different.

Truth of the matter is, as disgusting this situation with Bonds, baseball and steroids is, it’s really very similar to George Bush winning the 2000 election. In all likelihood it wasn’t achieved on the up and up. Even if it was, the level of suspicion surrounding it is so thick you can’t tell the difference between truth and theory. And in the end, even if George Bush really did steal the election, he’s still President. You may not have voted for him, it might piss you off and keep you up at night, but at the end of the day he’s in the Oval Office. Well, at the end of the day, the name Barry Bonds sits at the top of the all-time home run list. Perception, morality, and what you may want has very little to do with the reality of either situation.

Those who write books or columns, make jokes on late night television and sell clever bumper stickers aren’t as righteous as they fancy themselves. As much as they feel they are trying to shepherd the weak through valley of darkness, they’re capitalizing off these huge “injustices.” I have yet to hear Mike Lupica offer to return any income earned from his book about the summer McGwire and Sosa captured our imaginations. I haven’t heard any players, who have tried and convicted Bonds and others of crimes, suggest that any team forfeit their World Series titles earned in this era. Bud Selig has kept every dime he’s earned, even though his salary is directly affected by the level of popularity which is highly influenced by the home run and not by the chemicals in those that hit the home runs. Just like Bill Maher, Michael Moore, Keith Olberman and Dennis Miller.

And you will know my name is Hirp, when I lay my blog upon thee.