Archive for December, 2007

DP Dot Com Dubbles Up In 2008…

Monday, December 31st, 2007

ryan grant

Happy New Year to RYAN GRANT, the Green Bay Packer’s All-Pro running back. It’s all coming together for homeboy right now. A little over a year ago it wasn’t even known if he would play football anymore. RYAN stuck to the program and now the Packers are favored to get to the Super Bowl this year. Coincidence? Never.

DubbleUp stuck to the program and maintained his focus to get to the DP Dot Com Football Pool. This was exceptional too considering he missed a week of picks. Let me know what size you wear playboy. Nike Dunks are coming your way. Conversely, I want to send something out to Angry Citizen for scoring the lowest of everyone who submitted their picks every week. Just to show that it’s not where you’re from, but where you’re at and if you eff with DP Dot Com you are always a winner.

Happy New Year party people, let’s get together again on the other side. We got a lot of shit to talk about.


TIMBERLAND = Hip-Hop’s G.O.A.T. Sneaker…

Monday, December 31st, 2007

trapped in the closet

Bury me in these…

A while back on XXL, BILLY X. SUNDAY talked about rap music’s best sneaker styles and without question the classic wheat colored Timberland was second only to the Air Jordan. It was after further review I realized that because Jordan brand Nikes have sooooo many different issuances and colorways that the G.O.A.T. Hip-Hop sneaker has to the Timberland boot.

I don’t consider sneakers to be qualified simply as rubber soled athletic shoes. Sneakers are the shoes that Black folks wear to place themselves in a tribe. How many of us wear athletic shoes to do things that are athletic? Or even aerobic for that matter? So how many people wear the classic wheat work boot to actually put in work? Unless of course your job is to wear jeans and stand on a corner.

The classic heat Timberland is ubiquitous in urban neighborhoods during the winter and is considered by some to be a four season shoe when worn with shorts and a long white t-shirt during the summer. I have a pair in my archive that contain specific instructions to only be placed on feet prior to my burial in the Earth. It’s not like you can get more than four(4) crispy appearances with these shoes on before you get a random scuff or oil mark.

trapped in the closet

My favorite all purpose utility Timberland is the 3/4 field boot. I copped these ‘Chocolate Bars’ at the A.J. Wright in Hempstead for forty cent($40). These shoes are super comfortable and their medium height keeps your feet dry without the excessive leg commitment required from a higher shoe. They are also lighter than the the average work boot because of the airfoam core inside of the soles. The field boot is definitely one of Timberland’s signature styles, but they have hurt their legendary status in recent years by bastardizing the boots for urban consumption.

The appeal of Timberland since my youth has been the fact that these shoes were ridiculously rugged. I still own a pair of the original elephant skin 40 Belows. They were called the Iditarod superboot. Since then I have bought Timberland boots that were made to last. Shouts go out to JEFF and SID SCHWARZ for mailing me a pair of Italian crafted Tims for free. The best element of Timberland had been the design ethos that all you will ever need is one pair. You should recognize them for being environmentally conscious before it was a fad.

trapped in the closet

trapped in the closet

Timberland caught hell a few years ago when one of the founders made the statement that their boots weren’t made for people to wear standing on a corner. The carpetbagger Black leadership rallied around these remarks and called them code for saying that Timberland doesn’t care about Black people (no G DUBBZ). This was a low blow to the company that has already given millions of dollars to charity organizations that fund anti-poverty and anti-illiteracy movements. The truth is that Black people never bought Timberlands in the first place to stand on the corner.

Black folks are savvy consumers, but the so-called Black leadership likes to portray us as perpetual victims. Black people, along with white(gasp), originally bought Timberland boots because these shits are the most well made shoes ever and they were originally made right here in the United States. It pisses me off sometimes when everything related to Black people is either as victims or ne’er do wells, and then some loud mouth jig more than likely wearing a perm starts talking in rhyme about white racism.

I’m the last person here to make an apology for any corporation or person that is part of the plan for supremacy. Timberland just makes great shoes and they stand behind their work, and they gave a fuck about the environment before it was a fashion statement like a yellow fucking ribbon on your lapel. You don’t have to be like me and own twenty pairs of Timberland boots, because all you need to have is one pair, but if you don’t have any… You just might not be Hip-Hop.

trapped in the closet

Ol’ Man River by MAXINE

Monday, December 31st, 2007

ol man river

Editor’s note: MAXINE sums up learning, loving and life

Dere’s an ol’ man called de Mississippi,
Dat’s de ol’ man dat I’d like to be, (Ol Man River-Showboat 1927)

Like a moth to a flame burned by the fire, the things that can kill us are what turn us on the most. So bad but so good at the same time. It’s like listening to a Michael Jackson song while awaiting the verdict in his 2005 child molestation case. If he’s ‘guilty’, oh the drama that would ensue! If he’s ‘not guilty’ even more drama would ensue! See, like the Mississippi River, we just keep rolling along, propelled by something akin to desire and ecstasy. ‘Butterflies’ plays in the background…

“I caress you, let you taste us, just so blissful listen
I would give you anything baby, just make my dreams come true
Oh baby you give me butterflies inside”

In that moment, that 1:45 seconds, his falsetto takes me so high, higher than any allegations, rumors, or opinions from others, to a place meant for the indulgence of love, truth and passion. The song ends, the glassy-eyed sentiment is over, and I think to myself, “did an alleged child molester just tell my story better than it’s ever been told?”

He mus’ know sumpin’,
But don’ say nothin’;

Whenever I’m in Brooklyn, I hit up one particular store for apples. The problem is that this supermarket has shitty produce stock. The apples always taste like there’s a waxy Carmex film. No amount of washing can ever dissolve all of the strange wax, a simple solution is to a)not buy apples from this particular store or b)not eat the apples. No no no. Attraction is a powerful thing. I guarantee the one day I decide not to purchase apples from this store’s shitty produce stock is the one day the waxy film
disappears, and then what?! All those days of waxy red apple tasting will be for naught? Those who know won’t tell and those who’ll tell don’t know.

What does he care if de world’s got troubles?
What does he care if de land ain’t free?

Keep on movin, keep on movin, don’t stop no. Remember that old Soul 2 Soul song? That ‘s what we do, we keep going, no matter the troubles, not matter the slavery, the price of the land that is ours to begin with. We keep going. The mental slavery is one from which there is no emancipation. As the years pass us by, we reflect on things we’ve loved, lost and learned from, but where is the change? Our world is only as wide as we allow it to be. I see you nodding your head to the newest Weezy F track. I saw you clapping your hands to that “Ay Bay Bay” joint. Throw on some of that old R.Kelly and see how many pairs of panties you can catch. None but ourselves can free our minds. Desire and ecstasy.

You an’ me, we sweat an’ strain,
Body all achin’ and racked with pain.

We try though. Yes we do try. We like the process of trying. We like to create more fuel for the addiction. The rush. The panic at failing. The fear of flying, being, wanting. The Chilli Peppers aren’t the only cats who like pleasure spiked with pain. What’s your aeroplane? We push, pull and plead for the change. The change to what? How do we change something we
don’t understand? But we like to try. The trying shows that we are aware, the blood, sweat and tears show the pain, and the pain is the proof. The proof that this isn’t all there is, there is more than us. More than we are. But who are we? We have been conditioned to be programmed by fear, the fear of changing or being better. The fear fuels the addiction, the pain is the proof in trying. We eliminate that which slows us down. How can we eliminate ourselves?

Git a little drunk,
An’ you lands in jail!

Lisa Fischer once asked, “How can I ease the pain?” At some points in the song she almost whispers the words, other times her vocals are so scintillating and powerful that I find myself straining to answer her question. How? Those things that can kill us are what turn us on the most. Ease the pain, not make it go away, ease it. Make it more necessary. See, we like things that hurt, just enough for us to feel them. A little mixed with a lot is a deadly combination. All of a sudden there is no stopping, the inertia of the mind takes over, our desires and ecstasy wait for us at the bottom and we run toward it, full force.

Ah’m tired o’ livin’,
And skeered o’ dyin’

We are never tired. Never tired of the struggle, the hustle. Addiction needs fuel, and we are addicted…to the life. Addicted to the love, to the truth, to the understanding. We tire from the process but oh, how we love it! Nothing more than to be martyr of ourselves. Who wouldn’t sacrifice themselves for themselves? A better being. Dying is part of the process but not really. People who jump out of planes always wear parachutes. We just want to get taken to the brink, the brink of no return, only to save ourselves by pulling the cord. It can be like sex. Daring, reckless, dangerous, warm, beautiful, necessary. Fuck that suede headboard, silk scarves, and strawberries and shit. Pure, unadulturated, sweaty, grimy sex. Ah, the things that turn us on the most right? Then he wakes up in the morning and goes home to his wife.

But Ol’ Man River,
He jes’ keeps rollin’ along!

We go on, we continue, we move, we love, we grow, we…are. Everything we want to be, and more. We take from ourselves, from the world, from each other, and we flow. Like honey, slowly and sweetly. When things get sticky, well, we enjoy it and use the setback as a lubricant for things not so easily achievable. Because the harder things always come. We like it, we find our strength in the understanding of the unknown. Like a moth to a flame burned by the fire, my love is blind can’t you see my desire?


Sunday, December 30th, 2007


Watching the historic Patriots versus Giants tilt last night with the ladies was an interesting affair. The ladies were amazed at all the different commercials for beer and also erectile dysfunction medication. Women, being smarter than us, pointed out that if men didn’t consume so much beer in the first place they prah’lee wouldn’t end up needing E.D. pills when they wanted to “put in some work”.

That’s the biggest problem with women. They use logic for shit. If we men used logic do you think the planet would be ticking as loudly on its current doomsday clock? Do you think the U.S. would be at war with everyone? Hell, do you think G DUBBZ would even be president? Hell nahh. The ladies then raised a serious point. With all of these pills to aid the pitcher (no ROGER CLEMENS), why aren’t there any medications to help the catchers? Hmmm? The ladies do have a point there.

Like with anything nowadays that corporations want to sell to people, it doesn’t matter so much what product or service they deliver, as much as the marketable name of that product or service. Consumers are far too savvy to accept anything from ACME Mfg Co. anymore. Only Wile E. Coyote fucks with that shit. American consumers want products with sexy marketing campaigns and punchy slogans and product names.

The easy part for us was in developing the pills that allow catchers to shine (no MIKE PIAZZA). The hard part (puns always intended at DP Dot Com) was coming up with a product name and tagline to help us sell this crap. Here is a look at some of the proposed product names…

Vidalis – GORE VIDAL was a well documented catcher. Be like him.

Chutamine – Keeping the chute free and clear.

Rectalia – Too obvious. Wal-Mart pharmacies won’t carry it, but the Canadian black market that supplies heartland America is BOOMING.

Colonase – This one was rejected for the above reasons and also because it started to sound like Colonease, and then Colonize…

Bhungolitane. – Nahhh.

Tailpipex – We felt like we were onto something, plus it was after midnight and we were all drunk.

Then the muse came down to us…


Help your tight end catch more balls.

Glaxxo SmithKline!?! Get on this, stat.


Capitalism And The Black Boogieman…

Sunday, December 30th, 2007

boogie man

Since even before the motion picture ‘Birth Of A Nation’ debuted this country, hell, Western civilization for that matter, has promoted the notion that the African male is a supernatural demon. The idea has been incorporated into children’s holiday folklore like the story of our friend, Zwarte Piet, and it finds itself in media and publications dating back as early as the 16th century.

I would surmise that the ascension of capitalism on the whole is intertwined with the objectification and degradation of the Black male. It works on many different levels and it serves these dual purposes equally well. Firstly, when the resources of Africa were being plundered and the indigenous peoples were being subjugated and colonized, how were the colonists to justify their supposed Christian ideals for historical sake if they did not demonize the African? How do you justify theft, rape and outright murder in the prism of religion? You can if you make the victim the devil.

I am fast forwarding the discussion to the present tense because the same vein of persecution is administered throughout Western civilization’s popular culture. Black men are still portrayed as the hounds from Hell (no Michael Vick) who require an exorcism in order to accept the values of society. This is a theme repeated ad nauseam in contemporary music when the only stories relating to a Black man’s life describe violence from insufferable poverty. Worse than the violence that is alluded to in contemporary culture is the actual apathy that is encouraged through visual and audio media. No one else in the U.S., other than poor people, are cultivated to seek contentment when shit is so fucked the fuck up. Even pigs leave the mud sometimes, don’t they?

I have to bear some of the blame for the negative image of Black men. I am partly responsible for this due to some of the poor decisions that I made when I was a teenager. But, what comes first? The young, uninformed mind, or a multi-billion dollar campaign of misinformation that persuades young people to eschew the values of education, honesty and community? I agree that individual responsibility MUST be a component for us to restore our communities in 2008 and beyond, but EVERYONE must accept their responsibility for this change, including the children that profit from the system of supremacy.

Reshaping the content delivered by entertainment companies is long overdue anyhoo. Can we create a form of capitalism that doesn’t require exploitation and deprecation? Can we wrest the creation of art from the control of corporations? Art should not equal entertainment without education. Why must education and entertainment remain mutually exclusive propositions? These are the questions that we have to solve in 2008. If not then, when? If not us, who? The Black community is still filling prisons and morgues faster than schools and we ALL must work to stem this tide.

boogieman The BoogieMan says…
Go in on this Newsweek article linked below.

The Search for Thugs