You know them. They’re everywhere. Maybe they live next door to you, and through your paper thin ghetto-ass walls you can hear them scream at the top of their lungs at their poor girlfriend to get the screaming little shit of a kid because “I’m playing Xbox!” Maybe you actually heard one of them say to a 3-year old during the fireworks extravaganza you attended earlier this month “thanks a lot for ruining my Fourth of July. I guess I got beer at home to take care of that!” Maybe this makes you want to carry around abortion clinic business cards and stab pro-lifers with coat hangers. Either way, a couple of these fuck-hole members of society should be neutered or spayed faster than autistic alley cats with syphilis.

The first group is the parents with 11 damn kids at the Dollar Store. Every damn one of them running through the store with Big Gulp Code Red Mountain Dews, the world’s stickiest lollipops, and one of those fucking slimy/sticky-hand things from the bubblegum machines out front (which somehow already looks like it’s touched more carpet than Dick Cheney’s daughter.)

Now I have lot’s of friends with children, and all of them, until they get old enough to discover video games and text messaging, are always coated with some sort of brightly-colored flavored corn syrup/mud mixture. And I know when I hug them that I will be forced to go home and change my clothes. But these are my friend’s children. I love them. I don’t give a fuck about your slow-class kids who will no doubt grow up to invent the next generation’s crystal meth or potato gun. So please, next time leave them in the car, preferably with the windows rolled up under the hot sun, instead of keeping them close enough to play Spiderman with the back of my shirt in the checkout line as your personality-challenged ass ignores them all and reads fucking Us Magazine. Those are the typical bad parents. They almost get a pass. They probably had typically bad parents themselves and they just don’t know any better. Bless them.

The next group though is even worse. They are the parents of tomorrow’s suicides. They are a rarer breed, but one that you can spot nearly everywhere if you keep your eyes peeled. They are the over-the-top socially anxious parent. These parents are so goddamned afraid of human interaction that if their child so much as sneezes in public he’s out of dessert until Jesus comes home.

Now, I was recently down in Morehead City, North Carolina taking in some sun and human fuckery with old friends (shout out TimS with a big MC EIHT JEAH!) when I spotted this breed. As I ate a great dinner on an open patio with my back to the beautiful Crystal Coast I was nearly floored by the disgusting act of parenting that I witnessed. Our table was having a good damn time, snapping pictures, making jokes, and enjoying what my crew back home calls “good laughs” when the little man sitting next to me must have felt like it was his turn to join in the festivities, by turning and burping at me. That’s it. Just some silly little mouth gas and a smile.

Now this isn’t exactly good manners, or how he should probably behave, but judging by his mother’s reaction you’d have thought he committed a moral sin against God. This simple bitch proceeded to snatch little dude by the arm, drag him three feet down the bench, and snarl “say excuse me” in a voice that reminded me of Christian Bale as Batman. A little over the top I guess, but still, at this point I’m not ready to choke-slam the hooker. Nor am I about to put any of my limbs within striking distance of her mouth either. Not until she digs her nails into his thigh, and with tears in little dude’s eyes, says with that same snarl, (only whispering now) “You feel that? those are my nails!… you keep it up and…” Now I didn’t exactly get the rest of the threat, maybe the blood flowing into my head from the anger impaired my hearing, but all I know is it took everything I had not to Russian-sickle that dumb hoe into the ocean.

This sorry excuse for life really just dug her nails into her poor son’s leg while threatening him in public with more violence and somehow thinks in her simple fucking brain this is less of a scene then the little burp and a smile? Young man, if by some fucked-up event of fate you ever come across this rant floating around on the internet when you’re older (and searching for some identity), you run far, far away from that bitch. Immediately stop trying to gain her approval and run, dude. It’ll never happen, I barely met her over a half-hour dinner and I can tell you that will be one miserable cunt until the day she dies. Run!

Shortly after former Clipse manager, Anthony ”Geezy” Gonzalez, was charged with running a $10-million a year drug ring, one-half of “crack rap’s” dynamic duo started blessing us with the greatest video blogging (VLOG) series in the history of hip hop.

Malice, the often overlooked and completely underrated brother of the best duo in rap (yes, they’re the best until Andre 3000 is kidnapped by the Dungeon Family and forced to rap again; or Pimp C rises from the dead) began releasing these brilliant mini-movies that challenge every stereotype ever thrown at hardcore hip hop.

Intelligent and insightful, not to mention ridiculously entertaining and well-shot, these VLOG’s, as well as the Clipse music, are giving the hardcore heads cause to be proud of their genre as well as incentive to never have to listen to whiny, off-beat nerd rap again when searching for intellect in our entertainment.

If you don’t have time to watch them all, be sure to check out Episode 2, it’s insane. Also, be sure to check for Till the Casket Drops late this summer dropping on Columbia Records. Rick Rubin (co-chairman at Columbia) is rumored to have produced a few cuts for the album!

Malice Video Blog 1 from Malice of the Clipse on Vimeo.

Malice Video Blog 2 from Malice of the Clipse on Vimeo.

Malice Video Blog 3 from Malice of the Clipse on Vimeo.

Malice Video Blog 4 from Malice of the Clipse on Vimeo.

Malice Video Blog 5 from Malice of the Clipse on Vimeo.

Leave a comment about Rounder and view more videos from ShadetreeFilms at Vimeo.

In the most recent episode of the NBA Finals on Thursday night the Orlando Magic and Los Angeles Lakers overcome a parade of whistles by an eager officiating crew at Amway Arena to actually make a game out of Game 4.

The 99-91 win for L.A. gives the Lakers a firm 3-1 series lead and inches the franchise closer to its 15th title. Orlando on the other hand is feeling about as good as Cleveland is right now after blowing their second shot at a win in these Finals. If such a thing as a sports curse actually does exist, then be assured Magic fans will be talking about the “greatest free throw misses” in franchise history for years to come. Nick Anderson, you are no longer alone.

The Magic finished the night with 15 misses from the charity stripe with Dwight Howard and Hedo Turkoglu combining for 13 between the two of them. Just as bad were Orlando’s 17 turnovers.

The same small-market team that two days earlier torched the nets in a record setting shooting performance got it done on defense early on but couldn’t finish the job. In the first half the Magic carried the momentum by holding Hollywood to just 37 points. They then pulled a Cavalier-like card out of their hats (after being up 12 at the break) and muddled their way through the third quarter for just 14 points, compared to L.A.’s 30. But even that wasn’t the death of them. Somehow the Magic weathered the Laker storm and found themselves up five with a minute-and-half to go. The Lakers kept coming though, and the Magic backed down.

From that moment on it was Pau Gasol scoring in the paint. It was Howard missing two straight free throws. It was Jameer Nelson getting an up-close view of Derek Fisher’s resurrected jump shot from behind the arc with only four seconds left. Tie game, 87-87. On to the second overtime of the series. Fast-forward to a 91-91 game with 31 seconds remaining and imagine the dagger piercing the hearts of Orlando fans as Fisher drains another one from downtown. The Magic no longer could answer. We’ll find out if they can keep this thing alive though in Game 5 on Sunday night at 8 p.m.

Quote of the Night – “I don’t know what the referees are seeing out there in this first quarter. There are some bogus calls out there,” said Phil Jackson before the start of the second quarter after being asked “what positions” are putting his players in foul trouble.

Best Advertisement – A commercial for Who Wants To Be A Millionaire 10th Anniversary featured the question “Who was the youngest player to win in the Finals?” The multiple-choice answers were A.) Moses Malone, B.) Michael Jordan, C.) David Goodman, D.) Shaquille O’Neal – and can you believe I was actually sitting there asking myself “Who the hell is Goodman?” Yeah, they got me.

Makes Me Wonder – If the NBA actually thinks the officiating in the Finals and/or overall playoffs has been up to par. They should at least make a public announcement explaining what is considered a foul nowadays.

For Stats Sake – Bryant racked up 32 points, 8 assists, 7 rebounds and was a perfect 8-of-8 from the foul line while Gasol (10 rebounds) and Trevor Ariza (9 rebounds, 3 trey’s) each went for 16 points. Howard led Orlando with 16 points, 21 rebounds, an NBA Finals record 9 blocks and 7 turnovers while Hedo Turkoglu had 25 points, 5 rebounds and 3 assists.

Proving there is indeed a first time for everything, the Orlando Magic won their first NBA Finals game in seven tries on Tuesday night over the Los Angeles Lakers. That cuts the series lead to 2-1 for L.A. and improves Orlando’s futile mark in the Finals to 1-6 overall in this, their second trip. The cravings for a win of this magnitude by Magic Nation were such that even the confetti couldn’t wait the final two-tenth’s of a second before trickling down from the rafters.

It’s as if the desperation of having their backs against the wall created this rabid animal, mindlessly fighting off a cold-hearted shooting creature such as Kobe Bryant and his crew from out west. These teams took it back to the schoolyard in Game 3 at Amway Arena. A great home team on one bench and the league’s best road team on the other treated fans to a 108-104 slugfest that featured the kind of offensive output that finds it’s place in history books. The Magic’s 62.5-percent shooting from the field is the new trendsetter in that category, and quite the contrast from Game 1′s paltry 29.9-percent effort. But the game was too close.

With the Magic holding court most of the second half after leading at the break, Bryant was melting away under the Orlando heat. And his self-destruction started well before Pau Gasol could tie the game at 99-99 with 2:41 to go. From there, in the blue and white corner it was Mickael Pietrus and Rashard Lewis making plays in a tag-team match against the efforts of Gasol and Lamar Odom down the stretch. This time the Magic came through in the clutch while Bryant faltered at the tail end. It’s just that the purple and yellow weren’t quite as bruised and battered afterwards as the Magic may have liked.

Can Orlando bottle the aggression they played with and bring it with them to Game 4 on Thursday night at 9 p.m.? The season, series, and championship trophy may very well depend on it.

Quote of the Night – What can I say? The Van Gundy’s are quality quote machines… “Tough is kind, those are impossible plays,” replied Jeff Van Gundy to Mike Breen’s assessment of a “tough shot for Kobe Bryant” after he made a long two-pointer over a Magic double-team.

You would think that after the second-half blowout we sat through in Game 1 on Thursday night the Los Angeles Lakers and Orlando Magic would remember they’re in the NBA Finals and act accordingly. But instead we at Joint Contrast had to ride the edge of our sofas into overtime before finding out how the second installment would end.

And it ended with a bang, for the most part. A tie game, 84-84, with two minutes to go… Rashard Lewis puts the Magic up by two with a minute-and-a-half remaining. Answering was Kobe Bryant for L.A. Then Hedo Turkoglu on a long two-pointer for Orlando. Cue Pau Gasol, who knotted things up at 88-88 with a half-minute to go to allow the drama to continue. Then a rookie for the Magic takes a shot in the paint that would take a bad bounce off the rim with nine seconds left. On to Bryant getting blocked from behind by Turkoglu. One more chance for Orlando. But that only gave Courtney Lee another game-winning shot near the hoop to miss, this time on the final play of regulation. On to overtime. And out go the lights for another night on Orlando. Final score 101-96, L.A.

What turned out to be an exciting finish was much more painful to watch early on. To be frank, what a piss-poor performance to start Game 2 by both teams. They made only 10 of 34 shots in the first quarter between them. What a snoozer. Not only could either team hit a shot from the field, but four players managed to rack up two fouls apiece. As insignificant as that was, it outlines how this thing started. Here’s hoping Game 3 at Amway Arena on Tuesday night (9 p.m.) is as good as the last five minutes (and overtime) of Game 2.

Quote of the Night – ”These are the worst fast-breaks I’ve ever seen run!”, courtesy of Jeff Van Gundy after watching Orlando bring the ball down in the third quarter. Mark Jackson followed that up shortly thereafter with a “take notes Orlando” while praising a fast-break effort by the Lakers.

After what felt like a two-week layoff for fans, the NBA Finals finally got underway Thursday night at The Forum in California as the Los Angeles Lakers (65-17) played host to the Orlando Magic (59-23). We here at Joint Contrast caught the action up close and personal straight from the comfort of our own sofas.

Yeah, we saw Kobe Bryant go on an 18-point bender in the 3rd quarter and finish with a Finals’ career-high of 40 points with 8 rebounds, 8 assists, 2 steals and 2 blocked shots. That scoring effort proved to be just the 46th 40-point game in the history of the championship series, so said a talking head on the TV. Pretty damn impressive, and surprising, considering it’s the sixth time he’s made it this far over the course of his 13 years in the league.

Did we mention that the Lakers ran away with a 100-75 win? And that the Magic only showed up to play for a quarter-and-a-half? Game 2 goes down at the same place on Sunday night at 8 p.m.

Quote of the Night – ”It doesn’t take long for the NBA player to blame everything on someone else,” said Jeff Van Gundy in the 2nd quarter as Jameer Nelson jogged down court while arguing a call with the referee.

Thankfully, some of our favorite artists are still creating music videos. And they’re doing so with a message attached more times than not. But even when merely having fun and experimenting with styles the music video at least brought a new perspective to the viewer. The cinematic quality of videos old and new should be celebrated for the masterpieces they are. And you best believe we’ll continue celebrating our favorites, from all genres, from here on out…

• The Roots – “In The Music / Here I Come / Don’t Feel Right” – You get a three-for-one with this music video from one of the great musical groups of our time. There are shadows creeping through the night, old buildings folding into new ones and a Black Thought hooked up to a lie detector test. – J.C.

• Public Enemy – “By The Time I Get To Arizona” – This group never had a problem touching on issues that most people steered clear of. This time around the Governor of Arizona is the target that Public Enemy is after. Check out the extended version of By The Time I Get To Arizona to learn more. – J.C.

• Xzibit – “What You See Is What You Get” – First off this song fucking bangs. Secondly, the one shot camera angle is straight Richard Linklater-style. – TimS

• The Pharcyde – “Passin Me By” – One of the most uniquely dope groups of all time delivers a uniquely dope video by a uniquely white guy. – TimS 

• Beastie Boys – “So Whatcha Want” – Come on man, I’m a small town, white boy hip-hop head. The Beastie’s are cooler than Eazy E’s balls in my book. – Dank Lucas

• Jay-Z – “99 Problems” – Rick Rubin ridin shotgun to Hov! The only thing this video left me wanting was more of this duo. – Dank Lucas

“They’re his dog’s, he can do what he wants with them,” replied fellow National Football League player Clinton Portis when asked two years ago how he felt about the dog fighting allegations against Michael Vick.

While his statement isn’t going to rally an army of dog-fighting Vick supporters to march on Washington and demand the former Atlanta Falcons quarterback be reinstated as the starting quarterback for the Falcons, it does make one wonder if the culture gap between inner city African-Americans and their suburban counterparts is too wide to allow one to judge the other.

Too often in America we blindly weigh in on situations without taking the time to consider the cause, and effect, of the perceived actions.

After the April 25, 2007 raid on Michael Vick’s property found, amongst other things, 66 dogs (most of which were pit bulls), a dog-fighting pit, bloodstained carpets and equipment commonly associated with dog fighting, the rich, and mostly white men associated with Vick seemed to back away slowly as if he was showing symptoms of a contagious flesh-eating disease that could attack their pockets at any moment (I wonder how many of them bet on dogs at Mike‘s house).

After years of building Michael Vick into a walking, talking – better yet – scrambling, tossing, financial empire, they cut their losses and turned their backs on him faster than George Dubya turned on Rummy.

As soon as the PETA Moms and Paris Hilton wannabees became an Army of Darkness marching toward Falcon headquarters like Saruman himself was leading them into Middle Earth, Nike pulled his best-selling signature shoe from stores, the NFL yanked his best-selling No. 7 jersey, and the Falcons front office began litigation to recoup his signing bonus. 

Professional athletes make their bosses exponential amounts of money. Wouldn’t it have been refreshing if just one of the multi-billion dollar corporations previously invested in Vick owned a pair big enough to say “We will not live long enough to spend the amount of money we have made off of Michael Vick’s abilities to play football and no matter what he did we’re going to support him!”

Let’s picture a young project boy named Michael, growing up under the poverty level like so many of our inner city youth today. His prize possession, a dog given to him to raise. He feeds and cares for it with what little money he can scrape together and grows a bond with it like nothing he has experienced in his young life.

It’s a Pit Bull, a dog known to him and everyone around him in his city as a fighting dog. Mike spends all the time he can with the dog until it’s big and strong enough to take it to the local fights. Some older attendees see Mike’s dog and decide to bet large amounts of money on Mike’s dog to win. It does, and the older group who bet on Michael’s dog pay him tips from their winnings, perhaps the largest amount of money the child has seen thus far in his life. With the winnings he buys another dog to raise and the cycle starts again.

Now picture this same child as a grown man given millions of dollars for his ability to run with and throw a football, betrayed by the same company of people he kept at those dog fights while growing up.

They “snitched” on him to save themselves from prosecution, and Mike found himself being tried by a jury of his “peers.”

But they weren’t his peers and therein lied the problem. Was Michael judged by the neighbor who would let his mother bum ten bucks when she needed it? No. Was Michael prosecuted by the Boy’s and Girl’s Club staff where he spent so much time growing up? No. Was he judged by single mothers from the neighborhood he grew up in? No.

He was in the hands of the same hypocrites who made millions off him and then turned their backs, pockets still fat, and rode off into the sunset searching for the next Michael Vick.

Let me recap an era for you real quick… We’re nearing the end of Master P and the run by No Limit as the most incredible hustlers and piss-poor rappers ever in hip hop, and now the Ruff Ryders are on top of the world off the strength of two DMX albums in one year. Canibus is, without a doubt, the most feared emcee on the planet. Big Pun’s first album has just dropped and the most anticipated album on every hip-hop head’s mind is Nas’ follow-up to It Was Written. Dr. Dre is on nobody‘s radar (The Firm, anyone?)

So I’m headed to my best friends house who I know is gonna put me up on game! I’m dying to hear this Punisher record he just bought, and I had just picked up both of the new albums from Redman and Method Man. I get there and there it is, this Eminem guy’s record. He’s going to set us all back another 10 years, so I think. Fuck it, spin it. Then it comes… “I’ll diss your magazine and still won’t get a weak review.” Okay, okay… “I’m tired of wearing the same damn Nike air hat.“ Me too, dogg… ”Hit the tree’s harder then Sonny Bono.” Hell naw, nice line… “You couldn’t sell two copies if you pressed a double album.” Well, fuck me sideways. This shit is dope! The rest is history.

So here we sit, a handful of days before the first Eminem album in four years and I just finished spinning the bootleg. I have to tell you, I didn’t stay a big fan of Eminem over the years. The Marshall Mathers album is probably a top-ten rap album of all time, but I haven’t been big on much since. Especially the post-50 Cent, thugged-out Em. I was content with him staying away. I was just learning to like his catalog again, especially the freestyles and guest appearances in between his first two records. Then the “3 A.M.” video drops and I’m like “okay, that shit is real slick.” The imagery took me back to his verse on the posthumous Biggie album Born Again, a sick-ass verse. Something real cinematic. Unfortunately that’s the high point of this album.

Now who knows how much of the real album I got here? I heard there were a couple Premo beats missing as well as a collabo with Jay-Z, but even if those rumors are true (and superb) they can’t help save it.

The subject matter is as repetitive throughout the album as its production. Nothing has changed in Marshall‘s world, or Dre’s for that matter. Early in the album we get “My Mom”, yet another jab at his mother. Why he wasted a beat this nice on another song about his mom is beyond me. And believe it or not, the nasty horns here are the high point of the production on the album. Maybe it’s just me, but I hate these repetitive-ass snare drum driven beats Em feels obligated to rap over. I know they made a lot of money with this formula in the past but its just that, the past. The rest of hip-hop has caught up with the sonic quality of Dr. Dre’s beats (or whoever’s doing their best impression of him.) Things get real horrible throughout the next few tracks, none of which I made it all the way through without hitting the skip button. “Insane” is a trash song that starts out about Em being molested by his stepdad, true? Not true? I don’t care either way. I can’t let that bang out my windows, dude. “Bagpipes from Baghdad” is a horribly irritating beat and I didn’t make it past the initial rambling about Mariah Carey before it got the same skip treatment. Seriously, you’re still on that shit about her?

Somewhere in the meat of the album we get a trio of what I’ll just call “rape rap.” “Same Song & Dance”, “Medicine Ball” and “Stay Wide Awake” are all just that, Em rapping about raping someone or some thing. All the word play in the world can’t make up for the retarded subject matter here. Now I’m no censorship douche, I can laugh about some sick shit, but there’s just no entertainment value in hearing his fantasies (again) of kidnapping and rape. You guessed it. Skip. Skip. Skip.

Next we have the songs you’ve heard already but don’t even know it yet. “Hello” is a lame version of “My name is” or “I’m Back”, take your pick. Then skip. ”We Made You” is another radio-darling Eminem song that will forever get play at white people’s wedding receptions. It’s also one that by now you should already be sick of. Skip. “Old Time’s Sake” featuring Dr.Dre on the mic and the boards just sounds old. Skip.

“Must Be The Ganja” and “Crack A Bottle” are both decent tracks with catchy hooks, if you’re not already tired of the latter. “Ganja” might be the only track with repeat value on the album, even it feels odd coming from someone who wrote this album supposedly sober for the first time in his career. Still, it sounds nice in the whip.

There is some lyrical treats at the end though. “Underground” is the nicest track on the album and the only remnant of the flow that made Em the most feared battle rapper hip-hop wax has ever met. On “Dejja vu” Em tells the story of his addictions and vices which ultimately led to his overdose and hospitilazation last year. Pretty dope lyrics here but if the beat is the final album version its straight garbage. And finally, on ”Beautiful” Em confirms he had the same doubts about his comeback as we did. A lot of diehard fans will call this song brilliant. It’s a good song, I have no problem with it, it’s just if I want emo-rap, Eminem is the last place I look.

Remember the South Park episode where Steven Spielberg and George Lucas were caught savaging Indiana Jones and a Storm Trooper? It’s hard not to envision the entire music industry lined down 8 Mile Road giving Marshall the same treatment when you hear this album. With the entire failing music industry on his shoulders with this release, maybe Em was trying to tell us something with all that “rape rap.” I always thought his monumental success held him back musically. I mean, how dope would it have been to hear Mr. Mather’s larger-than-life flow over some Madlib production? Some J-Zone? Or trading bars with Doom? Unfortunately we’re force-fed the same old song and dance.