R.I.P. Cosmo / Last Minutes With Oden

R.I.P. Cosmo... I fuckin' loved you buddy. I'm really going to miss you.



Please just set-aside 6 minutes of your day for this short documentary. Thank you to Bryan and Anderson @ The Film Vault - this certainly did make me cry.

Things Done Changed: R.I.P. Technics

Yesterday, Technics maker Panasonic released some sad news for anybody who is a fan of Hip Hop and analogous DJ'ing - amidst dropping sales numbers of analog equipment, Panasonic has decided to discontinue the production of Technics turntables. Since 1972, 3.5 million SL-1200 turntables have been sold, as well as countless accessories and headphones bearing the famous Technics name.

Most commonly known as Tec 12's, this analog turntable became a staple item of the majority of DJ's, mainly because of its 27 pound base, Direct Drive mechanism and solid shelf-life.

Tec 12's were not the only analog turntables on the market, but unequivocally, they were the best with more than 3 decades of reliability to its name. Should you happen to own a Tec 12, or preferably a set, hold on to it because like all other outdated electronics, these will become antiques and will certainly be of great value to collector's in the near future.

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The death of the Technics SL-1200 is an example of the increasingly-quick decline of hip hop music. As somebody who grew-up on hip hop - it is saddening to see the game like this. In and around the time I entered high school, some of the best hip hop records ever released could be found fighting for space on the shelves at local record shops.

Wu-Tang's 36 Chambers was as pivotal of a release as any, and had me contemplating wearing black toques in the summer months and balaclavas in public places. Mobb Deep's The Infamous and Nas' Illmatic painted a picture of struggle and despair in Queens, New York that by virtue of the growth of hip hop, could not be replicated today. Illmatic still stands as my favorite album of all time. Not to be left of the list, Biggie's debut album Ready to Die hit stores in '94. Tribe Called Quest's Midnight Marauders also dropped in 1993 and is also as listenable today as it was 17 years ago. On the west coast, Dr. Dre released The Chronic and Snoop broke-out onto the scene with Doggy Style - two of the best albums to drive-around to looking for trouble/honeys ever. In addition to the said albums released within this time frame, there were also highly influential releases from Tupac, Geto Boys, De La Soul, etc that marks this period as the Renaissance of Hip Hop.

Seven of the greatest accomplishments in the history of hip hop music were released within a window of a year, and despite my comfortable upbringing, I could identify with the artists and translate their struggles with gang life and broken-homes into my own with acne and losing my virginity. I feel sorry for kids growing-up today idolizing the likes of Lil' Wayne and Drake. Not to discredit the aforementioned artists, because I used to love me some Hot Boyz era Weezy, but how can any child identify with these artists and use the music as inspiration when all they're rapping about is cars, ice and hoes. At least with Mobb and Nas, I could hear their frustrations and attempt to empathize with their struggles.

The death if the Technics SL-1200 turntables is another piece of evidence of the decaying nature of hip hop music. It's sad.

Like Biggie said on Ready to Die - Things Done Changed.

Things Done Changed: What Happened To The Alley-Oop

Well the Miami Heat are 0-1 and I couldn't be happier. As I previously stated, I am switching my allegiances this year and placing my full-support behind the Boston Celtics.

If there was a negative from last night's game - it would be the lack of Rasheed on the Celtics bench cracking wise. Mr. Wallace is currently without a team, and boy do I miss his antics.



After watching that compilation of pre-Celtics Rasheed, I must admit that I had completely forgotten about his skills. Some of those one-handed lobs are disgusting, which reminds me; what happened to the alley-oop? Amidst years of excessive spleef consumption and a general disregard for sweating in practice, Rasheed used to throw it down with some lanky authority. Where once NBA highlight reels were consumed by the alley-oop, it seems these days the slam dunk has become an egocentric pursuit practiced single-handedly and the alley-oop has become a rarity.

"I represent Harlem World, not Melrose Place"

Just like Sheed's hops, R.I.P. Big L

In case you were wondering, this site has not exclusively become a sports website. There are some interesting bits n' bobs coming through the pipes - be patient.

Ruminations 4.0

An old girlfriend from college once used the term doorchfall to refer to me. She was a smart little whip of a woman, and I fancied her a great deal. She knew me quite well, and the word, which is Dutch, was an adequate assessment of the man I used to be.

Doorchfall: Of Dutch origin, referring to a person who has an affinity for being deceitful

In my high school years and early twenties, I would lie for my own benefit and self-preservation. Not anything major, that would cause anybody grief or tears, but just small lies that I mistakingly thought at the time were for my goodwill. Shortly thereafter, the relationship I had with this young woman crumbled, and I began to realize the importance of being honest. For all the other shortcomings in my life, I strived to be honest and to lie no more.

All people have flaws. Some are more, for a lack of a better word, major than others. While I try my mightiest to be above all honest with everyone in my life, I realize at the same time that others have the same faults I once had, and how difficult it was for me to be an honest person.

The point I am trying to make is that nobody is perfect. Even in love, people have faults and make errors, not because they want to hurt the other person, but because the longer we exercise our demons and continue erring, the easier it becomes, and inherently the less ethically damaging it feels.

If a loved one hurts you, take a moment to think and try your best not to take it personal, because there is no benefit to blaming yourself. Never forget that people have faults and that the most ethical of people err. Forgiveness will set you free my friends.


"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong"

- Mahatma Gandhi

Ruminations 3.0

For my readers who like myself are citizens of the fine city of Toronto, today is the municipal election - and if you don't vote, you can't bitch. Despite the fact that city hall is a non-partisan entity and things rarely get done because of this, it is still important to exercise your right to the franchise. There seems to be quite a dichotomy with this fall's election, as two candidates, Rob Ford and George Smitherman appear to be neck and neck - let's have a look at the tale of the tape:

Rob Ford is a lecherous, wife-beating, child-slapping, Coors Light chugging hardliner who will not only destroy the growth of the arts and culture in the city, but is also a bigot and racist. He is being supported by elderly Caucasians and displaced obese Americans.

George Smitherman is a former drug user, gay club visiting, hard line asshole who lied about the eHealth fiasco and came-out of the whole mess looking untrustworthy. He cares about arts, culture, bike lanes and the environment. He is being supported by the gays, the lesbians and them transformers with both parts and those who are opposed to Rob Ford and his slothful ways.

There is a third candidate, Joe Pantalone, who is a distant third, but has received a great deal of support from younger voters. Despite the support, a vote for Joey Pants is a waster, and based on policy, should be given to Smitherman only as a means of preventing Rob Ford's ascendancy to mayor. In all likely hood Pantalone may be the best candidate, but has zero chances of winning. In a pamphlet left on my front stoop, Joey Pants is pictured holding a cricket bat. I assume this was in hopes of garnering the support of the south Asian community. Rumour has it Mr. Ford was appalled, noting that a cricket bat is his favorite weapon for beating the shit out of his wife.

Vote responsibly my friends, and by that I mean fuck Rob Ford. This city needs better green spaces, public transportation, bike lanes with curb dividers and a more responsible city hall. The only reason Rob Ford wants the gig is because the litany of hot-dog vendors at the southern tip of Nathan Phillips Square and the Red Lobster at Bay and Dundas steps from the offices of the mayor.

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Firstly, I must give credit to all the world's mothers. For the most part, your sacrifices are inspirational. Having said that, just because you're a mom doesn't mean you have to exploit it and your babies. In today's paper (The Star), there's an article by a woman, who based on the content is a mother. It describes the frustrations of how her children dress and how she wishes they would heed her advice. Apparently Ines Sainz has some competition for the Edward R. Murrow Award for Excellence in Journalism. Just because you're a mother, doesn't mean you should have a large platform for describing the plight of your son's jeans being too baggy. It's as if being a mother-journalist is like getting your badge in fire-starting and safety in Cub Scouts and burning your home down. Fuck - do I even have a point?

It's similar to the guy who says 'I'm a good father, I feed my kids, buy them clothes and shit'.... really? Like no shit! You're father of the year, despite the fact that all of those aforementioned displays of parenting are mandatory and by no means identify you as a good father.

I'm not certain where I'm going with this - but being a parent must be the world's most difficult, time-consuming job known to man. Don't blow your own horn telling everybody who will listen how great you are at being a parent, if your son does not grow up to be a rapist, murderer or Rob Ford, you will know.

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Don't forget - tomorrow night.... Lebron and his boyfriends will be in Boston. Unless CBC is running re-runs of Antique Roadshow with Valerie Pringle you do not have an excuse for not watching.

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Cut Cut Paste

Life can throw curveballs your way, and these curveballs may present challenges, but if it's a fastball at your knees and you make $125 million to swing a piece of maple - you better swing that bat.

While I initially thought the final pitch to Ryan Howard was ball 4, this graph states otherwise. The legend on the right identifies the location, call and pitch sequence. Strike 3 - I stand corrected.


Rangers - Giants World Series starts Wednesday. In related news, my reproductive appendage has crept back into the torso from which it once so beautifully descended.

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My apologies for the half-ass post today, but if there's two things I love, it's massive phallic symbols and inclement weather conditions coming from the Northeast. Note how he gently strokes the red member in hopes it expires it's liquified babies all over the coastal and Baja regions of Mexico.

Rooney Stays Put

Didn't see that one coming. A week after expressing his desire to leave Manchester United, the stocky ginger goal-scorer from the council estates in Liverpool has signed a 5-year extension at Old Trafford.

Hopefully now Mr. Rooney can just focus on the pitch following a difficult month, with admissions of threesomes with working girls, all the while his wife Colleen sat-about pregnant eating Speculoos with a spot of tea and watching Corrie Street.

Apparently at least one City fan with access to spray cans didn't want to see him leave United for the neighbouring rival, and would prefer instead to continue signing ex-Arsenal players past their prime and the often injured from Spain and Italy.

I'm no expert on adversting, but what an awful advert - Rooney has the nose of a seasoned drunk in his late 50's and Rio appears to be giving fellatio to a line of text.

Man City - Arsenal Sunday on Setanta if you'd fancy watching the most graceful and eloquent football square-off against the most negative, inherently Italian tactics employed by City gaffer Roberto Mancini.