Archive for the ‘The Re-Up’ Category

All Day I Dream About Sneakers (USAIN BOLT 200m ReMix)

Tuesday, August 19th, 2008

notre dame

One of the main reasons that C.S. and I traveled to Paris was to see if I could track down some rare and hard to find sneakers. There is a neighborhood in a Parisian suburb called Cligancourt that my friends tell me resembles the old Delancey-Orchard Street strip from the late 1980’s.

Sure enough, there were leather jacket dealers and sneaker traders everywhere. With no prices marked on the shoes it meant that you could ‘jew’ the dealer down to the price that you both agreed upon. Since I am a Black Hebrew, I have no problem jewing anyone.

There were all kinds of NIKE dunks and Air Max models to choose from, but this trip wasn’t about securing any more NIKE shoes since the swoosh brand and I were looking at being separated (and possibly divorced?). I was on the hunt for a pair of ultra rare ADIDAS. Paris is known to be a hotbed for the German shoe manufacturers products and up to this point I had seen some interesting pieces not yet available in the States. The shoes I wanted though were more than just a pair of collectible sneakers; they contained an incredible history that not too many people know about.

These were shoes worn by the Jamaican bobsled team during the 1976 Summer Games in Montreal.

monty '76

First off I know what you’re thinking… Jamaican bobsled team at the 1976 summer Olympic games?!?!? And normally I would agree with you but that is how sick this story is. Because the games were being played in Canada, the Jamaican boblsed team assumed that there would be snow and therefore it would be their first chance to compete in the games. Can you imagine for just one second how difficult it must have been to practice bobsledding in the sand?

ganja sled

I guess the team had been smoking some of that good sticky icky for them to think there would be snow on the ground in July, even up in Canada, but nonetheless they packed their bags and their sled and headed to Montreal. As word spread on the tiny island that the bobsled team would be competing in the Olympics, several other Jamaican winter athletes were inspired to make the trek as well, in the hopes that they too might secure the ‘big gold coin mon’. How many of you know the story of WINSTON LIVINGSTON, the great steel pan drummer and professional speed skater from Jamaica? He would have shattered all the established records in the Sapporo Japan Games in 1972 if he hadn’t been disqualified for going around the track in the opposite direction.

winston livingston

The real hero, or should I say heroine of the 1976 Olympic Games, was MAVIS BAILEY. She was from a poor little town in the Parish of Saint Andrew called Cockburn. The seaside town was so poor that all of its residents had to share one single pair of shoes. Even though MAVIS was scheduled to compete, the week the games were scheduled wasn’t her week to wear the town shoes, so she had to go to Montreal barefoot.

little mavis

This is where the bobsled team stepped in (pun absolutely intended). MAVIS was favored to win the women’s 200m race and she was perfectly fine running barefoot , but the I.O.C. (the T.I.’s that run that Olympic shit) had mandated that all competitors must wear track shoes. VERNON HERDSMEN, the Jamaican bobsled team’s driver and the only member of the team that wasn’t detained by Canadian customs officials for narcotics possession, was able to lend MAVIS his sneakers so that she could run her race. MAVIS nearly won the gold medal too, but she unfortunately stumbled and fell when the laces from VERNON’s sneakers became untied. Sadly, she ended up finishing in last place.

poor mavis

Even though MAVIS BAILEY returned to Jamaica medaless and shoeless, it is her perserverance that I honor and respect. I found VERNON HERDSMEN’s her ADIDAS shoe at this tiny little sneaker stand run by an angry Arab (yeah, I know, show you a happy one).

MAVIS SL 76

The second best part of the trip was that C.S. and I were back home before they set that sneaker store on fire.

MLB’s FACIAL HAIR HALL OF FAME (Unshaven Remix)

Tuesday, June 3rd, 2008

reggie and pops

REGGIE and Pops

I’m excited for the upcoming season of Major League baseball for a bunch of reasons. It’s the sixtieth anniversary of JACKIE ROBINSON’s entrance into the majors, BARRY BONDS will likely become the new all time home run leader, the Mets will pwn the league, and the whole human growth hormone has been silenced ever since it became apparent that the entire league was on it (read: beloved WHITE athletes). I even joined an Internets Celebrities roto league. Looks like good times all around this summer.

This drop was inspired by OSCAR GAMBLE’s favorite website on the internets, Passion Of The Weiss. He had the idea for giving a shout out to MLB’s greatest moustached mavericks and mavens. Don’t act like it was only porn stars that sported the ridiculous facial hair from our youths. Baseball players were the real mutton chop superstars. From LUIS TIANT to MIKE SCHMIDT, seventies baseball was all about crappy polyester uniforms and personal style below the nose.

The Californian teams in the big leagues were certainly the fashion forward leaders in the facial hair movement. The San Diego Padres alone could field an entire squad of facial hair Hall of Fame players. Add in the Angels, the A’s and L.A. and you’ve got yourself a mountain of moustaches. Combine that with some of the greatest afros evar and you are talking about a follicle apex for American culture. When steroids and HGH came into the great American pastime hair would never grow the same. But I’m not into placing asterisks over afros…

Here’s the DP Dot Com list of the facial hair Hall of Famers…

george foster GEORGE FOSTER
By the time he came to the Mets after his years with the Big Red Machine GEORGE’s bat didn’t have the same pop, but hotdamnit his moustache sideburn connection was still on some official ‘grown man in the club’ status.

DOYLE ALEXANDER
Dude needed more than his sideburns to cover those sonar scoops he had for ears.
doyle alexander

cecil cooper CECIL COOPER
I gotta make sure I put one in for LM so he doesn’t retract his sponsorship.

GREG LUZINSKI
Chicago native GREG put in crazy work with the Philadelphia Phillies, but he could still bring it in his Chi-Town uniform when his drunk ass made it to the ballpark. Just like another of Chicago’s favorite sons and longtime DP Dot Commie, P-CITY.
greg luzinski

amos otis AMOS OTIS
This one is para mi amigo grande en la Ciudad de Kansas. AMOS was all about bringing shaft back to baseball.

“Shut Yo’ Mouth!”

I’m just talking about OTIS’ batting skills.


johnny damon

JOHNNY DAMON
“So easy even a caveman could do it”

DAVE WINFIELD
Did y’all cats know that DAVE WINFIELD was drafted by a pro football team despite the fact that he never played a single down in high school or college? And CHARLIE effin’ WARD wins a Heisman but didn’t get a single call. Facial hair = draft day hype.
dave winfield

rollie fingers ROLLIE FINGERS
ROLLIE was without question one of the greatest to ever do it. His Snidely Whiplash moustache should be telling you that much.

OZZIE SMITH
The Wizard of Oz was stylin’ on fools from the moment he came into the league.
ozzie smith

goose gossage GOOSE GOSSAGE
San Diego damn near had the entire facial hair All-Star squad. GOOSE GOSSAGE was just a big ol’ burly country boy who threw fire from his fist. Nothing subtle or sneaky in his repetoire, just fast, and faster.

DAVE PARKER
Can you imagine his gaudy career numbers if big DAVE PARKER had played during the steroids era?
dave parker

steve bedrosian

STEVE BEDROSIAN
STEVE reminds me of MICHAEL McDONALD. Remember that Yacht Rock hit song that STEVE and KENNY LOGGINS made together? Yeah, it seemed like only yesterday…

mike schmidt MIKE SCHMIDT
Show some mother effin’ respect to the Jewfro when you see them on the streets.

BRUCE SUTTER
There’s no relief in sight from the gangsta of homey’s birdnest beard.
bruce sutter

reggie jackson REGGIE JACKSON
The big homey had his own candy bar.

RON CEY
I’d swear that he retired from the Dodgers to do porn with his moustache.
ron cey

don stanhouse DON STANHOUSE
DON pimped his matching afro and moustache style all the way into the 1980’s.

OSCAR GAMBLE
OSCAR is the G.F.H.H.O.F.O.A.T. of this shit. Right off the bat take into consideration the fact that his initials are O.G.

The sideburns and nappy moustache are official, but the afro is straight up on some HGH. That’s word to Oh Word!

oscar gamble

oscar G

More Bounce To The Ounce (The P.B.R. Remix)

Sunday, June 1st, 2008

bums in love

Editor’s note: I threw up the remix because I was headed to a hipster cookout in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Instead of bringing a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon I thought I would bring a few quarts of Champale, or maybe even Cisco. The YouTube vids are linked from the classic drop on the history of malt liquor @ ‘What Would Thembi Do?

New York City has hosted many legendary parties over the years. One of the greatest Hip-Hop parties never played any rap music, but you were just as likely to see A-list producers and industry heads up in there on the regulack. The party was called ‘Soul Kitchen’ and that is what was on the menu all night. Classic funk and soul music that was being sampled by the best producers from New York to Los Angeles blared from the speakers.

The hosts of the party provided free fried chicken to all of the party goers that got there early enough and whichever venue held the party also sold quarts of Colt 45. We were sure that Hip-Hop was going to change the world. The only problem is that we were also smoking three or four White Owl blunts a night and occasionally popping an orange barrel, but gottdammit we could buy a quart of that BILLY DEE for only $3 bucks.

Eventually Soul Kitchen would stop being the spot and we would finally have to face the facts that Hip-Hop was just music that filled up a broader consumer lifestyle. As rappers spoke on consuming luxury items Heinekins and Coronas kicked malted liquors to the curb, relegating them to has-been crackhead status. This post is an homage to all of the brands that I have sampled through my years as a high school dropout, journalistic wannabe.

Old derrty OLDE ENGLISH 800
O.E. is the gold standard for malt liquors. It has a nice even taste and is palatable when warm, like say about 9a.m. after you have finally awoken and you have to go to work and there is still a couple of White Castles left on the kitchen counter and you realize that half a blunt is still sitting in the ash tray.

By the way, who is that chick in the bedroom?!?


family ties COLT 45
Colt Fo’ Fizzle never really got the props it deserved for being as smooth as it was. It was like drinking water, but after two or three tall cans you were hit in the face. Try not to take a piss on this stuff because once the seal is broken you might as well just stay in the bathroom.

crazy CRAZY HORSE
True story is that the Native American called CRAZY HORSE was some kind of wild activist against alcohol and its effects on Native American peoples. That’s why you can never trust white. As soon as you are dead they flip your legacy into his story.

If Crazy Horse is what we drunk before going to a Hip-Hop party, someone was going to get duffed out crazily that night.


p.s. PRIVATE STOCK
My homie COMBAT JACK always talks about how good Private Stock was. Truth is that it was aiiight, but it’s always a smart move to let the chicks see you with something different in your hand than O.E.

nic the spic BALLANTINE ALE
This was my brand for flipping the script and going classy with it. Ballantine was hearty too. Where as you needed at least two O.E.’s to get pissy, one and a half Ballantines’ would put you on the path to Negro nonsense.

d'angelo's meatbag MIDNIGHT DRAGON
Hide the women and children. The first time that I ever got crackhead stoned off alcohol was prah’lee after having a forty ounce of this shit. It is deadlier than that bumwine called Cisco. I remember being in a whorehouse on Roosevelt Avenue with T.C. and I threw up all over the waiting room. We were kicked out and T.C. laughed at me all the way home. That’s what you get for drinking a .99cent forty.

baywatch beatbox CHAMPALE
If you have never had Pink Champale you have never lived. Fuck all of that Moet Nectar and all that other bullshit that costs $50 a bottle. At the end of the evening it is all going into the sewer anyhoo. Nah’Mean?!?

A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR…

Friday, March 7th, 2008

champizzle my nizzle

Peep the wedding photo on the table… Ol’ boy married a sista?!?

Happy Women’s History Month Mrs. Sallie Hemmings.

“I Get Wild Like LARRY DAVIS”

Thursday, February 21st, 2008

igwlld

Editor’s note: Today is a sad day indeed. I just got an e-mail this morning that one of my heroes was killed in prison yesterday. LARRY DAVIS was a poor Bronx teenager who sold drugs for the NYPD until he decided to quit, with their money. The police came to execute him and his family but he somehow escaped and started a nationwide manhunt for his capture. Peep this remixed drop with his DVD story.

Rest in peace to this ghetto hero who actually survived for a minute after bucking his gat and yelling “Fuck The Police!”

I know that I’ve sworn off using YouTube videos in my drops, but let’s face it, they’re a beast with force that you can’t deny. Kind’a like your mans-n-them ESKAY from Nah’Right.

Nah’Rizzle dropped a link the other day to this series of YouTube’s documenting the story of NYC cult hero LARRY DAVIS. Most people aren’t built to withstand the heat that comes from the entire NYPD trying to kill you while the supremacist media simultaneously castigates you. LARRY managed to do that. He lost his ability to walk in the process, but he never lost his will to live.

Peep dude’s true story…