Return of the King

What it do,

This is Travisty
aka Hustle and 'fro
aka Dank Sinatra
aka Don Travioli DiEnzo Vincenzo Giamante Grande Grande
aka Travis Bickle
aka The Deformed Pretty Boy
aka Henry David Thorough
aka Roger Chillingworth
aka Sammy Davis Jewnior, Jr.

and so on...

I haven't been updating the blog because, well, I'm not being graded for it anymore, so fuck it. But something (soul crushing boredom) made me get to thinking: I can basically write whatever I want now. My former professor, the esteemed Michael Barnes of The Austin American-Statesman, had put up a link to my blog and those of my classmates on his own blog on the Statesman's website while we were being graded on them as a part of the class. Basically, I repressed the urge to be a dick--something that doesn't come naturally to me--because I didn't want to write anything offensive, since, unlike myself, Professor Barnes, the Statesman and St. Ed's have well-deserved quality reputations. I didn't want to sully said reps with the inane and profane that comes from my brain, so I tried to keep my inner asshole locked up inside me.

But now, I can write whatever I want. I have no affiliation with anyone and no longer have to worry about embarrasing anyone in this blog other than myself. Or maybe my friends, if they do something so humiliating that I feel like I have to laugh at them about it on a public forum.

But to get to the point, I might be updating a little more frequently now, and I promise future posts will be more entertaining than this, which was written in a haze of light beer and Xanax***. Starting now, every drunken post I pump out late Sunday night instead of doing my homework will be at least mediocre. I may even find the time to capitalize letters and put commas where they're supposed to be, but I dont go fror taht spell check shit.


***Dude, I have a prescription, it's totally cool.

A (partial) list of things other people like that I can't stand

Bruce Campbell
Special shout out to my friends Emily, ADogg and Jimmy, all of whom would repeatedly kiss this guy on the mouth and feet, were they ever to meet him. I can understand liking him in an ironic, hipster kind of way, the same way people "like" Journey, for example. His mugging and overacting in the "Evil Dead" movies is kind of funny, but what nobody wants to admit is that all of those movies suck. Granted, they kind of fall into that so-bad-it's good category, but once again, while that might be fine for people who like Bruce and his body of work as a kitschy joke, to celebrate the man as an artist is a little much. Take away those "Evil Dead" films, and what has he done? "Bubba Ho-Tep" was amusing, but try and name some of his other movies, ones he's in for reasons other than his pals Sam Raimi and the Coen brothers throwing him an occasional bone. "McHale's Navy"? "Serving Sarah"? Luckily, Bruce seems to have a sense of humor about his career.

2001: A Space Odyssey
There are some pretty cool images here in between eons of absolutely nothing happening. I admit I haven't seen this the whole way through, which probably taints my opinion on the matter, but it hasn't been from lack of trying. I watch all kinds of things. High school sex comedies. Bad Kung-Fu flicks. Ken Burns documentaries. A few days ago, while in bed sick, I watched "Touch of Evil", "Election", "The Treasure of Sierra Madre" and "The Karate Kid", all in the same day. So I'd like to think I can appreciate all kinds of movies. But time seems to stop when I try to watch "2001", and by the time it reaches the two-hour mark, my brain has been turned to mush. So, I've never been able to make it all the way through "2001". Too bad, I hear it's quite a movie.

Bob Dylan
Speak up, dude. You're mumbling again.

Pamela Anderson-Lee
I just never really found her attractive. Yes, even in her prime. She's not exactly hideous; I just wasn't ever too impressed. And it's not that I don't like dimwitted blondes with cartoonish upper bodies. Hell, I thought Anna Nicole Smith was hot as recently as three or four years ago. But even if I were to overlook the fact that she has Hep C, she slept with Tommy Lee AND Kid Rock and she starred in "Barbed Wire", I wouldn't be attracted to Pammy. She just looks dirty, like I'd need to cover her with delousing powder before I let her into my home. By all accounts, she's a really nice person though, and she does care a lot about animals.

90% of video games released after the late '90s
The newest gaming console I own is a beat-up Playstation 2, and I have a grand total of three games for that; the last three installments of the "NBA 2K" series. Other than the occasional sports game, I haven't really been big into videogames since the heyday of the Nintendo 64. Usually if I'm with a big group of people and they end up playing "Halo", I'm the guy who goes outside for a cigarette and resigns himself to the fact that he might be very bored for the next couple of hours.

Baseball
I single-handedly dispel the myth that Latinos are good at beisbol.

Jagermeister
I'm not a big drinker or anything, but there's certain things I'll drink and there's certain things you couldn't pay me to sip. And then, there's Jagermeister. It's like drinking cough syrup, only if you drink enough of it, you'll get throwed. Only I heard that happens with cough syrup, too. In fact, while undoubtedly safer than drinking large amounts of cough syrup, the rest of the Jagermeister experience could likely be simulated by taking a little Robutussin to the head.

The Beatles
Just kidding!

The Wu could be through

"Hey, so what do you think of '8 Diagrams'? I dunno if I'm really feelin it."

A friend of mine sent me this message on Facebook today in regard to the new Wu-Tang Clan album. I've known him since kindergarten. Growing up, the two of us were bonafied Wu fanatics. We bought the albums, the clothes, the concert tickets; anything with that big black "W" logo on it had to be ours. Long after they were considered washed up, we were still checking for the nine Staten Island superheroes. They were comic book characters come to life, X-Men under the influence of fat blunts and kung-fu movies. Now, after a four year break, "8 Diagrams" is their latest effort as a group. The spotlight has been off of them for years, and this album, with reports of bickering amongst the group, could be their last. I wanted them to go out on top. They're not gonna.

The rejuvenated Clan could have made a great album, but it appears group Svengali/producer RZA let his ego get in the way. Many other Wu members have come forth to denounce him, claiming that he completely micromanaged "8 Diagrams" and ignored all other input. RZA himself admits the album was produced under a "dictatorship" and not a "democracy". He has no one but himself to blame for the results.

The rapping isn't the problem. Other than the intolerable U-God, all the MCs sound great. Method Man, still the group's biggest star, hasn't performed this well in a decade. The underappreciated Masta Killa gets more face time than on past efforts and does an excellent job. Ghostface, always a model of consistency, does his thing, and, although everyone else is past their prime, they're still better than most MCs today.

If the MC'ing exceeds expectations, RZA's beats fail to meet them completely. Almost universally regarded as a musical genius (name another hip hop producer who's done scores for Tarantino and Jarmusch films), RZA has been Wu-Tang's heart and soul from the jump. Now, for the first time, he seems to be lacking inspiration. "Tar pit", "Unpredictable" and "Campfire" are just three of many songs that feature quality rapping over subpar production.

Occasionally on "8 Diagrams", RZA has a flashback to his glory days and creates a sonic palette worthy of his past work. "Wolves" features the great George Clinton filling the role of the Clan's late jester, Ol' Dirty Bastard, while RZA's track combines eerie chanting with an eastern flute sample. It's the rare case of an "8 Diagrams" song with a beat and hook comparable to the rapping. Other quality songs include the ominous "Stick Me For My Riches", despite some awful singing, and the heartfelt tribute to Ol' Dirty, "Life Changes". "Rushing Elephants" takes the title for best song on the album, as Raekwon, GZA, Masta Killa and RZA all drop excellent verses, one after another, with no chorus to slow the momentum. It's the closest they come to capturing that vintage Wu sound.

Were it the debut album of some unhyped group of newjacks, "8 Diagrams" would likely be fawned over by rap critics. There's not a truly bad song on the disc, although the cheesy "Starter" comes close. But from a collective as talented as the Wu-Tang Clan, it's fair to expect excellence from them every time out, especially when delivering an album as important as this one.

Pimp C

How do you condense a man's life into a handful of neat paragraphs? How can you explain a person's sweeping influence on a culture and sum up their entire legacy in a few hundred words? This is the dilemma I'm faced with as I try to write a fitting eulogy for fallen musician Pimp C, who passed away recently in a Los Angeles hotel room. He wasn't a superstar, but his influence on the music world was undeniable and couldn't possibly be captured in the space of a blog entry.

Chad "Pimp C" Butler was one-half of Port Arthur, TX's seminal rap group UGK. Texas hip hop has reached an all-time high in popularity, and many of the groups currently reaping the benefits are direct descendants from the UGK school of rap. Pimp sang his own melodic hooks and used live instruments to craft funky beats for he and his partner Bun B to rhyme over. UGK's use of slowed down vocal samples, self-sung choruses and bubbling bass, along with their laidback rhymes about "slabs", "boppers" and "pourin up" influenced countless MCs since the duo released their first album, "Banned", in 1988.

Bun B was the better MC of the pair, a rapper's rapper with a rapid-fire flow and intricate lyrics. But Pimp's colorful persona, his proficiency as a producer and a musician, and his gift for writing and singing catchy hooks were what made UGK's sound so distinctive. He always proved a funny and lively interview, and his blunt rhymes had a cynical sense of humor that belied their simplicity.

Pimp C's epitaph deserves to contain the word "innovator". He helped lay the groundwork for a style still being used successfully by artists today. In fact, Texas rap done in the fashion of UGK is more popular than ever, so, if anything, giving his own limited commercial success, it can be argued Pimp C was too ahead of his time. But instead of being bitter, Pimp was clearly pleased that the musical blueprint he'd designed had given birth to so many other careers. Even though he's gone, the tradition he started will carry on.

Feature Article (taken from the Hilltopper): Student Rapper Tries to Make it in Austin

At an age when most St. Edward's University students are working on Capstone papers, Austin-based rapper and St. Ed's student Clark Perry is working on his fifth album in four years. Perry has recorded and performed everywhere from Los Angeles to Belgium, and opened for the likes of Hanson and Devin the Dude. With an unwavering work ethic, confident flow and witty lyrics, Perry just might turn Austin's barren hip hop scene into something worthwhile.

The fact that Clark Perry raps at all comes as a surprise to most people initially. He looks more like the front man of an indie rock band or an actor in a quirky comedy than an MC. He's soft-spoken and even a little nerdy, but carries himself with the swagger of an artist who knows he's good at what he does.

Despite his current confidence, even Perry admitted he would never have imagined himself rapping just a few years ago.

"I didn't listen to music for a long time," he said. "I didn't even own a CD player until I was 14."

Then, Perry heard Eminem and developed a passion for hip hop. Perry said he related to Eminem's identity as a white rapper.

"His sense of humor and in-your-face attitude played a part too," Perry said.

Perry jumped into music headfirst and put out his first album, "Watered Down", under the name "Greyt Whyte" in 2003. Selling mostly to his fellow students at Austin High School, Perry moved an estimated 1,000 copies of "Watered Down". His success gave him the confidence he needed to work to get better.

After recording two more albums, 2004's "Indecision" and 2005's "First Wave", Perry left the United States to study in Spain, a move that would advance his career and permanently change his life.

"I was so inspired by everything around me," he said. "I got to hang out with the most famous rap group in Belgium, roll with London rappers, German rappers, a Romanian producer. Everywhere I went I was hooking up with the local people."

Perry said meeting these people provided him with material for his latest effort, "Barcelona On Ice", an album that plays like a love letter to Europe. Perry worked on "Barcelona" with renowned European producer Smimooz, and addressed topics such as Europeans' negative attitude toward Americans.

"All of that made me a new breed of enlightened, multi-cultural party rapper," he said.

Perry is currently back in Austin and he said he is still struggling to make a name for himself in a city that calls itself "The Live Music Capital of the World", but has yet to truly make room for hip hop.

"I've been doing this a really long time, and still don't feel like I've gotten much attention," Perry said. "Bavu Blakes is probably the biggest rapper in Austin, and still, the average person doesn't know his name. I've never even been to ACL because it's not like there are many rap acts playing."

Perry is determined to break through to a wider audience, and despite being in a less than ideal locale for his type of music, he remains optimistic. He has recently started work on his fifth album, "Danger to Myself".

At only 22 years old, Perry has accomplished far more than many of Austin's other musicians and has the potential to go even further. Maybe he'll be the one to change the pecking order here and help this city escape from the shadow of Houston and make a name for itself in the world of rap. But even if he doesn't, hip hop has already taken Clark Perry exactly where he wants to be.

The Swag of Scott (Baio)

Scott Baio is only known for two things: his role as the titular character on two crappy sitcoms, and his role as a player Frank Sinatra wouldn't have left his girlfriend alone with. Now, after falling off the face of the planet for years, Baio has mounted a comeback with a reality show mocking his Hollywood pimp image. I haven't seen the show, but I recognize the brilliance of the concept. Apparently, he just goes around dropping in on old girlfriends, apologizing for being a sleazeball and asking them what went wrong. Hilarity surely ensues.

Baio is the very definition of overachiever. Now, I am neither condemning nor condoning having meaningless "relationships" with an unhealthy amount of partners. But if that's how you choose to live your life, you could do worse than Pamela Lee, Nicole Eggert, Denise Richards, Natalie Raitano (criminally underrated), Nicollete Sheridan and Heather Locklear. He even hooked with Liza Minnelli, which I would liken to choosing Julius Erving for your pick-up basketball team. He may be 60, but he's still Dr. J! Amazingly, Baio got with these A-list celebrities with nothing on his resume but a slew of made-for-TV movies and roles as a babysitter and The Fonz's cousin (apparently, Fonzie put him up on game). Kevin Federline should have a shrine dedicated to the man in his house.

Baio is the subject of more urban legends than Keyzer Soze. The thing is, there are so many great true stories about him that I would have a hard time disbelieving anything I heard. In a recent interview with Howard Stern (Howard, that class act, asked Baio if he could sniff his fingers), Baio was asked to tell "the Playboy story". Turns out, during the late '80s, Baio was the first man to be banned from the Playboy Mansion for making Hugh Hefner jealous. Read that sentence again. If I got cockblocked by HUGH FREAKING HEFNER, my ego would get so big that my head would swell up like Joseph Merrick.

The legend of Scott Baio has grown; that much is evident with a google search. He's something like a cult figure now, and it makes sense. To call him an underdog would be misleading, but it's hard to believe that the one man Hugh Hefner was scared to even let near his girlfriend(s) was the guy who played the nanny on "Charles in Charge". It's like how every year during March Madness, some tiny school pulls off an upset victory, and everyone starts rooting for them. In other words, Scott Baio is the people's champion. The word "swag" gets thrown around an awful lot these days, but...

Eulogizing Shaq

Growing up, Shaquille O'Neal was my idol. Every other kid on the playground wanted to be Michael Jordan or Penny Hardaway, the athletic mid-sized players who could dart through the lane like a ferrari and walk to the basket on air. Not me. I wanted to be the 300-pound guy who swatted shots into the bleachers and broke backboards with his dunks. After years of trying, Shaq finally won his first title in 2000 and I was so giddy you would've thought I was the one hoisting that championship trophy in front of 15,000 people. I'd been watching basketball for about 7 years, but it was the first time I had something to celebrate at the end of the season. I watched him pick up a few more titles and suffer some heartbreaking defeats after that, unwavering in my support. But after 16 years of dominace, it appears Shaq is finally starting to break down.

Watching Jordan or Hardaway play was like observing a great actor deliver a rousing monologue. You're wowed by the precision and confidence in their every action, wondering what they're going to do next. Shaq in his prime was more like a cyclone leveling a city block. He'd back his man down and spin with a quickness that was unfair to give a seven-footer. This was almost always followed by a ferocious dunk with defenders hanging on him like a football player. "Force of Nature" is a cliche, but it's entirely appropriate here. That's why watching him lately has been downright depressing, like Superman getting beat up by Gerry Cooney. He fumbles passes, blows dunks, gets beaten for rebounds by players half a foot shorter and plays with the demeanor of a guy in a prison rec game who knows he has to go back to his cell at the end.

It'd be great if he could get back to his previous form, but it seems nearly impossible at this point. Shaq had a notorious aversion to off-season conditioning even back when he was undisputedly the best player in the game. Now, by all accounts, he works much harder, but it's too little too late. His stamina is shot, and his athleticism has waned to the point of nonexistence. True, he's going through a messy divorce, which even his coach admits is probably distracting him, but all the recent articles about Shaq's decline haven't been written for nothing.

Even as a kid, I could appreciate what I was watching and know that I might not see a player like Shaq for decades. On and off the court, he was unique. The one-liners he'd crack in press conferences with that monotone delivery that made you unsure if he was kidding or not. The ridiculous nicknames he'd give himself ("The Big Aristotle" was my favorite). The crappy rap albums that I still bought. "Kazaam". Off the court, he was a goofy, overgrown kid, but put him in a basketball game and he'd be out for blood.

Hopefully I'll forget what looks to be the undignified end of Shaq's career and still get to keep my memories of his better days. I can pretend his career ended in 2006, with the Heat winning the NBA title. I've already accepted this is the end of the line for Shaq. Here's hoping he gets the memo and retires gracefully.