Tag Archives: rap

Jul 29 2015
4 Comments
Pop Culture Mysteries

Pop Culture Mysteries – Case File #004 – Snubbed (Part 3)

PREVIOUSLY ON POP CULTURE MYSTERIES…

Part 1     Part 2

AND NOW THE POP CULTURE MYSTERIES CONTINUE…

It was time to review the evidence.  The tweets themselves.  I stopped by the library in my fancy new ride and asked Agnes to pull them up for me.

This one from MTV stuck out at me like a sore thumb on the hand of man who’s been scratching himself all day:

“I don’t get it,” I said as I stared at the screen of one of the library’s beep boop machines.  “The media’s made it out like this gal was left out in the cold but here a reputable source like Music Television indicates she WAS nominated.”

“I don’t care, Jake,”  Agnes said.  “Music hasn’t gotten any better since Danny Kaye if you ask me.”

I felt a ba-bump in my heart and grinned like an idiot.

“What’s with that look?”  Agnes asked.

“Don’t ever change, Ag,” I said.  “Hell, if your face didn’t look more worn out than the first baseman’s glove during Game Seven of the World Series, I’d propose right here and now.”

“Whatever,”  Agnes said.  “I just wish the city would do something about all the transients who wander in here all day and make me look up nonsense for them.”

I’m pretty sure she was talking about somebody else.

Moving on, I asked Agnes to look up all of the VMA award nominees.  Here’s what I saw:

BEST FEMALE VIDEO

Nicki Minaj – “Anaconda”

BEST HIP HOP VIDEO

Nicki Minaj – “Anaconda”

BEST COLLABORATION

Jessie J + Ariana Grande + Nicki Minaj – “Bang Bang”

“She was nominated three times,”  I said.  “Agnes, can you believe the snow job the press is trying to pull here?”

“Uh huh,”  Agnes said as she pulled up a website called “Jobs-A-Plenty.”

“Let me see if I kind find something for you.”

“Go back to Tweeter,”  I commanded.

“Here we go,”  Agnes said.  “Dishwasher.  Minimum wage.  Will train.  This has your name written all over it.”

“I’m on the job right now, woman!  Will you put the blasted Tweeter-ma-bob back on already?”

“Ugh,” Agnes said as she complied.  “I swear society just doesn’t do enough to help the mentally unstable.”

“There!”  I said, tapping my finger on the screen.  “Right there!”

“So what?”  Agnes asked.  “What is so important about this that you’re interrupting my coffee break?”

This caper had become what I like to call a “Kaleidoscope Case.”  In other words, with every angle, there’s a new point of view.

Some of the ones I’ve heard so far:

  • Minaj is super rich and ultra famous.  Few people ever sniff that rarified air.  A lot of folks who have seen their dreams go bust would love to be in a music video and you wouldn’t hear them complaining about only getting three nominations.
  • Her biggest video is just a bunch of posteriors flapping in the breeze.  (That reminds me, I need to review it again for research purposes.)  Is it really deserving of any award?
  • But then again, she never said she wasn’t nominated at all.  “Nicki Got Snubbed” is just one more example of press hype.
  • What does “different kind of artist” mean?  Is she talking about race?  That she has a little more junk in the trunk than the skinny waifs that dominate the entertainment industry?  Both?
  • Forgetting about the butt content of her video, is it possible to see her tweet as a springboard to a conversation about racial and body type diversity in the music industry?

So many questions.  So little time.  And at the end of the day, I was only going to get five bucks.

I understand the “she’s too rich to complain” argument.

I even get the “Anaconda is just a bunch of butts wagging around and has no artistic merit” argument. (Though I might have to watch it again just to make sure.)

But as for race and body type diversity – I suppose there’s always a need for that conversation.

3.5 readers, you might think things are hunky dory these days, but it’s always a good idea to talk about the past so that it doesn’t get repeated.

Let me tell you about the racism I witnessed in my day.

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Jul 27 2015
5 Comments
Pop Culture Mysteries

Pop Culture Mysteries: Case File #004 – Snubbed (Part 2)

Previously on Pop Culture Mysteries…

Part 1

And now the Pop Culture Mysteries continue…

It was a full moon and like a werewolf, I was ready to howl.

Ms. Minaj’s Anaconda featured a bevy of bodacious booty, so much so that I couldn’t tell if it was a music video or a proctology doctor’s highlight reel.

shutterstock_225997429

“Do pick up your jaw, Mr. Hatcher,”  Delilah scolded.  “I dare say you run the risk of drooling into your ice water.”

Like an adorable blonde bunny rabbit, Delilah munched on a salad.  It must be hard to be a dame like that, barely eating anything just to keep a trim figure.

I skipped lunch and asked for a glass of H20.  I was hungrier than a bear after hibernation, but I had fifteen smackers in my pocket earned by solving three cases for Mr. Battler and my manly pride mandated that I not allow Ms. Donnelly to pick up the check this time.

I handed Ms. Donnelly’s phone back to her.

“I have no idea how to work these damn beep boop machines.  Play it again, will you?”

Delilah scoffed, seized the phone, and tucked it into her designer handbag.

“You’ve already watched it seventeen times, Mr. Hatcher.”

“I’m nothing if not a thorough investigator, Ms. Donnelly,”  I said.  “There’s a clue hiding amidst all those hineys.  I’m sure of it!”

“You’ll have to review it on your own time.  I won’t allow my mobile device to be used for your perversions any longer.”

Delilah passed me a manilla envelope.  I opened it.  A letter from Mr. Battler.

Hatcher,

The Video Music Awards.  They’re a yearly opportunity for ridiculously wealthy superstar musicians who get paid insane gobs of cash to sing songs and prance around in absurd outfits to pat each other on the back for their accomplishments made over the past year.

Naturally, pop culture junkies like myself gobble the spectacle up like rocky road ice cream.

But there’s trouble in paradise.

Pop-rapper Nicki Minaj, whose videos, what with their vivid colors, imaginative premises, and, well, yes, butts, butts, and more butts, was shunned.  Forgotten.  Cast aside.

Some might even say, “snubbed.”

Nicki was none too pleased and took to Twitter with her complaints, charging racism and body type-ism.

Not to be left out of the spotlight, songstresses Katy Perry and Taylor Swift stuck their schnozolas into the mix as well.

Review the tweets, conduct copious research and above all else, inform my 3.5 readers whether or not Nicki Minaj’s snub complaint is valid.

Sincerely,

Bookshelf Q. Battler

Blogger-in-Chief of the Bookshelf Battle Blog

I folded up the note and tucked it into my pocket.

“What on God’s green Earth is a Twitter?”

“It’s a social media website…”

Ms. Donnelly stopped, noticed the dumbfounded expression on my mug, and took an alternative tack.

“People like to talk a lot on their ‘beep boop machines’ as you call them.  They share virtually every last mundane detail of their lives with one another.”

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“Very much so,” Delilah said as she pulled out her phone and snapped a photo of her lunch.

“I can’t believe that,”  I said.

“Yes, just one of the things you’ll have to get used to I suppose.”

Delilah’s dainty fingers typed something on her phone.  Under her breath, I heard her mutter, “Hashtag Worst Salad Ever.”

BQB EDITORIAL NOTE:  Have you eaten a salad worse than Ms. Donnelly’s?  Share it on #WorstSaladEver.

“People have gotten lame if you ask me,”  I said.

“I did not.”

“Sharing a bunch of photos of nonsense,”  I said.  “I’ve never heard of anything more boring.”

“To each their own,”  Delilah said.

“Hell, it used to be if a yahoo tried to show you his photo album, you’d run out of the room like your feet were on fire.”

“Times,”  Delilah said with perfect diction.  “They are a-changing.”

The waitress dropped off the bill.  Delilah reached for it.

“Nothin’ doin,”  I said as I forked over my three fivers.

“Oh honestly, Mr. Hatcher,”  Delilah said.  “I don’t mean to be a braggart but I make so much more money than you.  You parting with the meager compensation provided to you by Mr. Battler is the last thing I want.”

Dames making more than men.  You know what I’m going to say, 3.5 readers.

I’m not against the idea.  I’m just not used to it.

“I won’t hear of it, Ms. Donnelly,” I said and then to the waitress, “Keep the change, dollface.”

“Hooray,” the waitress said as she twirled a finger around in the air as if she were throwing a sarcastic party.  “A whole quarter.”

$14.75 for a lousy salad and a glass of wine.  What a racket.

Ms. Donnelly dropped a fiver of her own on the table.

“I said I’ve got it.”

“It would be tres blaise to leave such a pathetic tip, Mr. Hatcher,”  Delilah said as she stood up.  “You may not care about your reputation but I have built a proper one that I must guard zealously.”

We walked outside the restaurant and stood there for a moment.  I waited for Delilah to unlock the door to the ’55 Caddy but instead, she got on her beep boop machine and did some beep booping.

“Ringing your gentleman caller?”  I asked.

“Not that that would be any of your concern but no,” Delilah said.  “I’m calling an Uber.”

“A what-er?”

“An Internet based car service,”  Delilah explained.  “A company that retains the services of drivers who are treated like independent contractors, thus rendering the need to pay for worker benefits unnecessary.”

“I think I just heard Jimmy Hoffa roll over in his unmarked grave.”

Yeah, I know Hoffa didn’t disappear until the 1980s but what can I say?  I’d been visiting old Agnes the librarian a lot, utilizing her books to bone up on everything I’d missed while I was pulling a Rip Van Winkle.

“Why call a cab when you’ve got wheels?”  I asked.

“I don’t,” Ms. Donnelly said.  “You do.”

The debutante tossed me the keys and I caught them without a hitch.

“I don’t get it.”

“A gift from Mr. Battler.  He figured that if you’re going to solve one-hundred pop culture mysteries for him, you’re going to need a reliable means of transportation.”

Like a cat in a canary cage, I was overjoyed.

“I thought you said the nerd doesn’t have much moolah.”

“He doesn’t,”  Delilah said.  “And though notoriously stingy with his own funds, Mr. Battler and his magic bookshelf do have a certain rare ability to…make things happen when they need to.”

“Magic bookshelf my eye,”  I said.  “I still say our boss is nuttier than a fruitcake.”

“You’re free to think whatever you wish, Mr. Hatcher.”

“I think I’m not going to look a gift horse as sweet as this one in the mouth,” I said as I opened up the driver’s side door. “Cancel your car, Ms. Donnelly, I’ll gladly give you a lift home.”

“That’s quite all right.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Huh.  Another piece to the Delilah puzzle.  She obviously didn’t want me to see her digs and I was overcome with a desire to find out why.

But I knew if I pressed the issue, she’d snap up tighter than a Chinese finger trap.

So I did the only thing a gentleman could do.  I waited until her Uber picked her up and then tooled all over town with my fancy new set of wheels.

I used to have one just like it and was touched that Mr. Battler went through the trouble to find a replica.

Maybe my boss wasn’t such a dope after all.

Copyright (C) 2015 Bookshelf Q. Battler.  All Rights Reserved.

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Jul 25 2015
6 Comments
Pop Culture Mysteries

Pop Culture Mysteries – Case File #004 – Snubbed

By:  Jake Hatcher, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Private Eye

Pop Culture Mystery Question: Are Nicki Minaj’s claims of a VMA snub justified?

“You never should have come here.”

Women drivers...

Women drivers…

A granite slab doesn’t make for a good pillow, but I was exhausted and it was the only thing around to rest my head on.  I leaned back and stretched my legs over the green grass, noticing the tiny flecks of dew forming on the blades.

“I wish you’d of listened to me, kid,”  I said as I took a pull from the forty-ounce not so cleverly disguised by a brown paper bag.

Yes, I was one of those people who drank during the day.  Morning, afternoon, night.  Time doesn’t matter when you don’t age.

“All this town does is put stars in the eyes of young dopes too stupid to know any better,” I said.  “‘Shoot for the stars and you’ll land in the clouds,’ the dreamers say. They forget to tell you about the part where you might bypass greatness altogether and crash into the ground harder than a Mack Truck aimed at a brick wall.”

Crash into the ground.  

Poor choice of words.

I ran my fingers over the engraving that marked the head stone:

Roscoe J. Hatcher

1925-1952

“You thought I didn’t want you in LA,”  I said as I took another swig.  “That I didn’t want you cramping my style.  I was just trying to keep you away because this place is a haven for weirdoes and I didn’t want you to end up a two-bit bum like yours truly.”

I sat and sulked for awhile, interrupting my kid brother’s dirt nap with a one-sided conversation.

Suddenly, the sound of a finely tuned engine filled my ears.  I looked up to see a cherry red 1955 Cadillac winding its way through the lonely cemetery access road.

The sporty little number came to a halt in front of me.  Inside?  An even sportier little number – the object of my misplaced affection, Ms. Delilah K. Donnelly.

“Are you lost, ma’am?”  I asked as I sprang to my feet and pointed to the right.  “Rodeo Drive is that-a-way.”

“Apologies for interrupting your lunch, Mr. Hatcher,” Delilah said as her baby blues stared at the brown bag in my hand in a most disapproving manner.

I attempted a save.

“Can you believe degenerate winos use this place to get smackered?”  I asked as I threw the bottle into a trash can.  “Found this lying on the ground and Ma Hatcher always taught me if I see litter I should pick it up.”

“I’ll pretend not to notice your rampant alcoholism so that we might steer our attention to a most pressing matter,”  Delilah said as she popped the door lock.

“The nerd has another question?”  I asked as I sprawled out in the passenger seat.  It was nice.  Comfortably and roomy.  Not like the crap boxes they try to squeeze you in nowadays.

“Precisely,”  Delilah said as she drove away.  “And might I add a further apology for interrupting your mourning time.”

“No need,”  I said.  “Roscoe wasn’t much of a conversationalist anyway.”

As we hit the open road, Delilah turned on the radio.  A nice classic station.  Oldies all the time.

Legendary Jazz singer Ella Fitzgerald brought my mind back to the good old days.  There was a gal that didn’t need a gimmick.  Just a sweet tune about love and a set of superb vocal cords.

There’s a saying old, says that love is blind.
Still we’re often told, ‘Seek and ye shall find.’
So I’m going to go seek a certain lad I’ve had  in mind.

Looking everywhere,
Haven’t found him yet.
He’s the big affair
I cannot forget.
Only man I ever think of with regret.

– Ella Fitzgerald, Somebody to Watch Over Me, Pure Ella (1954)

“You have good taste, Ms. Donnelly.”

“I’m aware, Mr. Hatcher.”

“How’d you find me?”

“Ms. Tsang said you’re known to visit your brother’s grave know and then.  Perhaps it isn’t my place to pry…”

Ahh, here we go.  Once again, Delilah acts like she doesn’t care, but then cares enough to ask.

“But I’m surprised you’d visit your brother at all…after what he did to you.”

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the breeze as air rushed all around me.

“People say there are some things that can never be forgiven,”  I said, “But to them, I say they just haven’t lived long enough.”

“Time heals all wounds?”  Delilah asked as she took the highway onramp.

“No,”  I said.  “Time just gives those wounds more of a chance to fester.  But given enough time, you lose your ability to give a shit about them.”

“I’m not so sure I concur.”

Delilah sure had a lead foot.  She steered us into the passing lane and floored it.  It was like being chauffeured like a female Mario Andretti.

“I’m sorry,”  I said.  “Ma Hatcher taught me never to swear in the presence of a lady.”

“It’s quite all right,”  Delilah said.  “In fact, your obscenity reminds me of our next case.”

Delilah adjusted the radio dial and the following lyrics invaded my ear drums:

This one is for my bitches with a fat ass in the f*%king club
I said, “Where my fat ass big bitches in the club?”
F%$k them skinny bitches,
Fu&*k them skinny bitches in the club
I wanna see all the big fat ass bitches in the motherf*%king club…

– Nicki Minaj, Anaconda, The Pinkprint Album

I lit up a cigarette and shook my head.

“I don’t get it,”  I said.  “The nerd has me looking into pornography now?”

“Pornography?”  Delilah asked.  “This is one of the top songs of the past year.”

I choked on my own smoke.

“Get outta’ town.”

Anaconda and Somebody to Watch Over Me are Nicki and Ella’s songs, respectively.

The rest is Copyright (C) 2015 Bookshelf Q. Battler.  All Rights Reserved.

Image courtesy of a shuttestock.com license.

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Jul 24 2015
2 Comments
Pop Culture Mysteries

Pop Culture Mysteries Gets Back to Basics

Read the Fine Print Whenever Ms. Donnelly is Involved.

Read the Fine Print Whenever Ms. Donnelly is Involved.

Happy Friday, 3.5 Readers.

Bookshelf Q. Battler here.

Among my many roles as Blogger-in-Chief of a blog read by 3.5 readers, I’m the boss of Pop Culture Detective Jake Hatcher, a hardboiled 1950’s private eye who sniffs out the answers to my questions about Hollywood and the entertainment industry.

Jake and I have never met in person.  Rather, I prefer to dispatch all my inquiries through Attorney Delilah K. Donnelly, Lead Counsel for the Bookshelf Battle Blog.

It’s kind of a Charlie’s Angels situation.  I ask the questions.  Delilah delivers them.  Jake hunts down the answers.  By keeping Delilah as a buffer, I’m able to retain Jake’s services and he’s not able to strangle me until I spill the beans to the secrets I’m keeping from him:

How did he fall asleep in 1955 and wake up in 2014 and more importantly, how can he get back to his own time?

Yes, I can help him with both questions, but I’m stringing him along until he’s solved 100 cases.

Feel free to thank me, 3.5 readers.  Sure, many bloggers put in a lot of work for their fans, but few are willing to extort a 1950s private investigator for your reading pleasure.

He’s gotten a bit carried away lately.  He’s starting writing down recollections of his adventures of a gumshoe.  I think they’re all interesting and worth sharing.

Two of his ideas in particular I hope to turn into self-published books, the profits of which I’ll keep because, you know, when Attorney Donnelly hands you a contract, you’d better read the fine print before signing.

Sorry Jake.

Anyway, the core concepts of this series:

1)  I have questions about popular culture.

2)  Referring to those questions as, “Pop Culture Mysteries” is funny.

3)  A 1950’s hard-boiled film noir style detective complete with trench coat and fedora tracking explaining the answers to these questions in traditional/stereotypical noir style (i.e. longwinded exaggeration and lots of ridiculous comparisons) is funnier.

Planning of novels set in Jake’s world are underway, but before the noble trio of Jake, Delilah, and myself do anything, we need to get a few more Pop Culture Mystery Questions answered and into the can.

Jake needs a fan base before he writes a couple of novels.  Otherwise, who’d buy them?

And how could I cut Jake out of the deal and use that sweet, sweet Amazon moolah to buy myself a Porsche?

Ah, don’t worry, 3.5 readers.

Behind that ice queen exterior, Attorney Donnelly often serves as the moral compass of this blog.

I’m sure she’ll twist my arm and convince me to share some of those book profits with our resident sleuth.

(I’ll need to keep some of it though just to pay Delilah’s latest legal bill though.  Sheesh!  Talk about billable hours!)

Don’t worry.  Jake will get back to regaling you all with The Wrong Guy, the story about how he tracked down the killer of his buddy Lou the liquor store owner.

But first, I need to put him on a more pressing case:

The Nicki Minaj Video Music Award (VMA) Snub – Does Her Complaint Have Merit?

Before Jake pounds the pavement on the trail of this caper, I’d like to take an informal poll:

What say you, 3.5 readers?  Is Nicki right?  Did she lose out because, as she tweeted, only certain “kinds” of artists get recognized?  Or, you know, should she just take all the money she made off of Anaconda and be happy?

Sour grapes or a star treated badly?

And what do you think about Taylor Swift and Katy Perry jumping into the fracas?

You tell me, 3.5.  You tell me.

Image courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

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Jun 07 2015
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The Funky Hunks

MC Plotz Gives You the What What

Bernie

Bernie “MC Plotz” Plotznick (Please buy one of his nectarines…only, don’t tell him this blog asked you. Pretend like you really love nectarines. Thanks.)

Yo yo yo what up 3.5 peeps?   Word to ya momz cuz I came to drop verbal bombs!

Bernie “MC Plotz” Plotznick here.

Yeah, I’m sure you all remember me from my days when Bookshelf Q. Battler and I formed the dopest, chillest, funky freshiest rap duo, The Funky Hunks!

I just wanna note that rumors that I now sell oranges off a highway offramp are totally false.  (I switched it up to nectarines.)

Anyway, my old rap buddy Bookshelf Q. Battler aka “Read N. Plenty” (his rap moniker back in the day) is the kind of guy that never forgets the little people and he’s given me a guest spot to announce what’s coming up this week on the Bookshelf Battle Blog:

  • Pop Culture Mysteries – Jake Hatcher tracks down answers to long standing entertainment questions. His first mystery?  What happened to the original Brady Bunch spouses?  Hell, Mike had a wife before Carol and Carol had a husband before Mike, right?  How else did they get all those kids?  BQB’s 3.5 readers want to know what happened to the first wife and first husband and Hatcher’s on the case.  Those posts will drop Monday-Wednesday.
  • Bookshelf Q. Battler and the Meaning of Life – Oh higgity hellz yeah, y’all.  BQB’s epic search for the answer to mankind’s most vexing question will return later this week.  Upcoming developments?  You’ll learn Bookshelf Q. Battler’s real name AND BQB finds romance.  Yeah, ya’ heard.  Homeboy is a mad dope funky fresh playa who’s gonna be chillin and mackin on a fine ass hunny.

Who remembers when BQB and I busted out mad rhymes?  No one.  C’mon y’all.  Throw yo’ hands in the air if you got love for the dorkiest nerds in the rap game.  Wait, I think a see a hand!  What?  You were just stretching?

‘Aight then.

See, BQB and I preferred to rap about wholesome activities, like drinking milk and doing your homework.  Unsurprisingly, this meant we were universally rejected by rap fans though we did find an audience in the soccer mom crowd.  Oh well.  Maybe we shoulda’ tossed a swear or two but it’s all good.  Hindsight’s 20/20 ya’ dig?

I’ll leave you with the lyrics from our 2000 hit – “Chores Be Fun” off our debut album Nonthreatening White Boyz:

Chores Be Fun

By:  The Funky Hunks

Yo!  It’s 2000!  Nothin’ rhymes with two thousand!

Funky Hunks, you know we’re back!

On the scene, ready to attack!

Gonna organize your closet

Get in your shower,

Scrub away the lyme deposits.

Funky hunks, you know its true!

Nothin’ for a friend, we wouldn’t do!

Dance to the funky hunk groove,

Call us up!

And we’ll help you move!

Carry all your heavy stuff!

‘Cuz the Funky Funks are so damn buff!

Brew you a nice hot tea…

Get your stuck cat outta that tree…

Cuz that’s what Funky Hunks do!

Now we’ll go and shine your shoe!

Ughh…Yeah…break it down

Image courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

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May 21 2015
7 Comments
True Music Stories

The Funky Hunks Redux

Bookshelf Q. Battler.

BQB aka Read N. Plenty, one half of the highly sanitized rap duo,

BQB aka Read N. Plenty, one half of the highly sanitized rap duo, “The Funky Hunks.”

Today you know him as the host of a blog with 3.5 readers.

Surely more of you remember him from his days as one half of the late 90’s/early 2000’s rap duo, “The Funky Hunks.”

(Back then he rapped under the name Read N. Plenty).

Yes, BQB and his childhood friend Bernie Plotznick aka MC Plotz once briefly tasted fame and fortune with their album, “Non-Threatening White Boys.”

Universally ignored/panned by the youth of the day, they were beloved by stretch pants clad soccer moms the world over, who couldn’t get enough of their overly tame lyrics.  They devoured songs like:

BE NICE AND STUFF

By:  The Funky Hunks

Yo. 1999. It’s singin’ time!
Let’s kick it!

Funky Hunks are on the scene,
Always polite and never mean!
Brush your teeth and say your prayers,
Ladies at dinner? Pull out their chairs!

Funky Hunks, don’t disrespect!
Or a stern rebuke is what you can expect!
Carry an umbrella in case there’s sleet!
Look both ways before crossin’ the street!

Funky hunks! We’re on a mission.
Tellin’ you to turn off the television.
Go outside.
Read a book.
Grab a friend, a casserole you will cook!

Give that food to a homeless man!
Then sing a funky hunk jam!
‘Cuz you know deep down in your heart
Doin’ good is where to start!

Ugh…ugh…yeah….break it down…

The International War Criminal, Mythical Furry Monster and BQB arch nemesis known simply as “The Yeti” was actually in charge of writing this story (in an effort to embarrass BQB), but he dropped the ball during the whole war over control of BQB HQ earlier this year.  Hopefully he’ll get his furry hide in gear and finish it for your reading pleasure.

shutterstock_152431793

In the meantime, enjoy Bookshelf Q. Battler and the Meaning of Life and the yet to be titled Project X coming in June.

Rapper and Yeti images courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

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Apr 26 2015
3 Comments
Ask the Alien

Ask the Alien – 4/26/15 – Iggy, Jennifer, and Daniel Waltz’ “The Water Travelers”

By:  Alien Jones, Intergalactic Columnist, Most Intelligent Being in the Universe

PREVIOUSLY ON ASK THE ALIEN:

AJ’s Relatives, Orcs, and Sci-Fi Gary

Alien artifacts and diseases!

Pixels!

AND NOW ASK THE ALIEN CONTINUES…

Sigil of House Jones

Greetings Earth Losers!  Alien Jones here beaming copious amounts of knowledge through the Bookshelf Battle Compound and straight into all of your computerized devices which, though they may seem highly advanced to you rubes, are actually considered children’s toys in most other parts of space.

Who has a question?  Come forward and declare your inquiry!

BQB:  Hey AJ.  It’s me.  Bookshelf Q. Battler.

AJ:  Oh Cripes.  Not many takers this week?

BQB:  Well, you’re the one who told me to stop bribing the winos.  But seriously, I have a question – what is the best song ever produced?

AJ:  Ahh, that is an excellent question but I could not possibly answer it.  There are so many, where would I begin?  Do I limit the field of inquiry to a particular genre?  To a group of artists?  To a select time period?  To a single planet?  The realm of possibility is so vast that…

BQB:  I’ll save you the “trouble.”  It’s Trouble by Iggy Azalea and Jennifer Hudson.

AJ:  You can’t just say that a song is the best song ever produced, why that’s….

BQB:  Sing it.

AJ:  No I couldn’t possibly…

BQB:  You know you want to.

AJ:  It would be indignified…

BQB:  Do it!

AJ:  I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT YOU WERE BAD NEWS…FROM THE BAD BOY DEMEANOR AND THE TATTOOS….TAKE IT BOOKSHELF….

BQB:  DON’T YOU COME IN THINKIN’ YOU BALLIN….it’s so great isn’t it?

AJ:  It really is.  I stand corrected.  This song is the best song ever composed in the history of the space/time continuum.

BQB:  Makes Beethoven look like a pile of crap.

AJ:  We shall sing it during the commercials on Scandal night!

BQB:  Damn straight.  But first, you have a question…

Daniel Waltz, author of “The Water Travelers” asks:

ALIEN JONES,

Have you ever water traveled?

Oh Daniel, I see what you did there.  You worked the title of your book series into your question.  Good show!  For BQB’s 3.5 readers, I’ll note that your site provides a description of your latest installment, The Curse of Senapin. Here’s an excerpt:

“For the past six months, Aaron and Madi have been waiting to receive word from Yerowslii. But, when the King of Upitar is taken captive by Senapin forces, Aaron and Madi must flee their hiding place to rescue him. Although skeptical of it, they are accompanied by a disloyal ally, Ugine.”

– Daniel Waltz, The Water Travelers

Bookshelf Q. Battler and I can relate.  On our joint missions to make the Earth a more intelligent place, we’re often accompanied by The Yeti and he’s the most disloyal and ugly ally I’ve ever seen.

I was quite impressed with your book trailer:

https://youtu.be/JtcslPai7hE

BQB:  My socks were knocked right the hell off, AJ.  At first I was like, “Twenty one seconds?  That’s too short…”

AJ:  Yes, but “Adventure finds those who are brave enough to take the first step.”  That’s all you need to know.  If I had emotions, I’d be moved.

BQB:  Plus it’s read by someone who sounds like he could be a friggin’ Lord of the Rings wizard or something.  Very awesome.  Makes me want to rush right on over to Amazon and buy a zillion copies…

Now, at first I thought Daniel was just trying to find out if I like to water ski or snorkel or something (which I do) but he’s actually referring to a power discussed in the book that allows travel between another world and Earth through water.

To answer your question, no.  I don’t need to.  I’m a duly designated officer of the Intergalactic Space Force and as such I have a vast array of ships at my disposal, so there’s no reason to get my pants wet.  (When I bother to wear them.  I usually don’t because, you know, I’ve got nothing down there so what’s the point?)

Your book is very prophetic though because certain species have been “water traveling” for years.  In fact, there’s an entire planet where anchovies rule like kings, love like queens, laugh like jesters, and live like jacks.  Then they water travel on over to Earth and end up as a dinner entrée topping.  Don’t you feel bad now for putting them on your pizza?

BQB:  I don’t think anyone put anchovies on their pizza anymore AJ.  I think they just keep one can around for the random weirdo who wants a fishy pizza.

AJ:  Sounds like something The Yeti would be into.

Thank you for your question Daniel.  May your career as an author travel farther than the vast reaches of the cosmos.

Until next week, this is Alien Jones, signing off.

Alien Jones is the Intergalactic Correspondent for the Bookshelf Battle. Do you have a question for the Esteemed Brainy One? Submit it to Bookshelf Q. Battler via a tweet to @bookshelfbattle, leave it in the comment section on this site, or drop it off on the Bookshelf Battle Google + page. If AJ likes your question, he might promote your book, blog, or other project while providing his answer.

Submit your questions by midnight Friday each week for a chance to be featured in his Sunday column. And if you don’t like his response, just let him know and he’ll file it into the recycling bin of his monolithic super computer. No muss, no fuss, no problem.

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Apr 14 2015
5 Comments
Movies

Movie Review – Chappie – (2015)

Sigh.  I really wanted to like this one.

Director Neil Blomkamp hit a home run his first time at bat with 2009’s District 9, attracting a rare Oscar nomination for a Sci-Fi flick.  Critics weren’t big on his follow-up Elysium with Matt Damon but this blogger thought it was actually pretty decent.

So when I saw previews about a movie starring a bad ass police robot with Hugh Jackman as the villain, I was all like, “Sign me up!”

But after seeing it?  Ugh.  Where do I start?

OK.  If you want no SPOILERS leave now.

“Suck” is a strong word.  It wasn’t the worst movie I’ve ever seen and it did have its up moments.  “Suck” is often in the eye of the beholder.  And an ongoing theme of this blog is that I cheer on artists of all kinds in the hopes that said art will find a home in the hearts of people who will appreciate it.

So, I only use the word “suck” in correlation to what I was expected and what I received.

I was expecting an off brand Robo-cop.  What I got was a  robot with a childish brain spending most of the movie waxing philosophically about the meaning of its existence.

I can’t really explain it without digging into the plot, so here goes.

Deion (Dev Patel) is an engineer for a corporation that builds police robots for the South African government.  One day, he develops a program for a true AI, an intelligence that will allow a robot to be able to think like a human (more so, actually).

The CEO, played by Sigourney Weaver, is not interested and orders Deion not to use company equipment to experiment with his AI program.  Odd that the head of a for-profit company would balk at an idea that would revolutionize the robotics industry but, ok.

Against orders, Deion implants his program into a broken down police robot headed for the scrap pile.

Oh, I forgot to mention, he does this after he is kidnapped by Ninja and Yolandi, two gangster criminals who cook up a scheme to kidnap the engineer in the hopes that he can provide them with a remote control they can use to shut the police robots off and commit crimes with reckless abandon.  The gangsters abandon the remote control idea and Ninja wants to use the robot, which they name Chappie, to help with a heist that will be used to repay money owed to an even worse criminal.

Here’s where things start to get odd.  Deion goes along with it and ok…what choice does he have?  They’re criminals with guns and shit.

But then – from time to time, Deion just comes back to the criminals lair to talk to Chappie and help him with his development.

Well ok – Deion has stolen a company owned robot against orders so that’s understandable he doesn’t want to call the cops on Ninja and Yolandi.

But then – Ninja and Yolandi just kind of like, let Deion come and go as he pleases.  I feel like most gangsters probably would have just shot him.

Chappie was born the instant his AI program was switched on so there’s a learning curve.  He’s basically a kid in a robot body and everything in the world is new to him.  There are some funny moments when Ninja teaches him how to swear and act like a gangster but other than that…eh, it’s…I don’t know.  “Eh” is the best word I can use to describe it.

Ok…so its a goofy set up.  It gets better right?  Nah…while there are some good action scenes, a great deal of the film is spent on Chappie learning about morals, the soul, the purpose of being alive, how people should treat one another, and so on.

Maybe that’s good.  Maybe there are people who will enjoy that.  Maybe Sci-Fi should make you think and maybe it doesn’t always have to be mindless special effects.

But me personally? I came into this film expecting a 2 hour bad ass police robot film and instead I got Chappie in bed with Yolandi (who he believes is his mother) reading Ba Ba Black Sheep to him:

Chappie and Yolandi - Sony Pictures

Chappie and Yolandi – Sony Pictures

Stop reading, Chappie.  I know.  I’m a book blogger.  But seriously, stop reading.  Stop painting.  Stop philosophizing.  Be a badass already.

Fun fact that I didn’t realize until I went home and Googled the film – Ninja and Yolandi are actually two members of the South African rap group Die Antwoord.  I’d never heard of them before, probably because I’m not South African.  Their rap names are actually Ninja and Yolandi and they play fictional versions of themselves in the movie.

After finding that out, I felt like the movie was one big joke that Blomkamp didn’t let me in on because I’m not South African and had never heard of Die Antwoord before.

Imagine if they made a movie where Nicki Minaj and Kanye West became the parents of a robot with a childish brain.  That’d be kind of hilarious.  Had I known who Ninja and Yolandi were prior to going into the movie, I might have found the whole thing a laugh riot (though I’m not sure a comedy was the director’s intent).

Admittedly, I might be broadcasting my lameness since these guys are apparently tearing up the inter webs.

If South African rap interests you, their vids are on youtube.  They’re a bit…well…”out there.”  No offense, I think I’ll stick with good old traditional Ludacris and Fiddy regaling me with tales about their trips to the club, their love of Cristal, spinning rims and so on.

That’s not a knock on Ninja and Yolandi though – they may be the only redeeming part of the movie, if there is one.

In conclusion – I gave it a solid C.  Probably not something you want to rush out to the theater for but you might give it a rental in the hopes that Neil Blomkamp can be encouraged to bring us another project of District 9 proportions.

That grade was hard for me to give.  My regular 3.5 readers know I hate to criticize and there may very well be people who love this movie and I’m glad for them but…meh…I think it is the first bit of media I’ve reviewed thus far that will not find its way on my shelf.

PS:  What constitutes good science fiction is often debated.  Some think that a sci fi flick should just be mindless laser blasting, space opera, and little else.  Am I therefore being one of these people by criticizing Chappie?  I suppose so, though it’s not my intention.  I didn’t like it, but I can see why others might.

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Apr 01 2015
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Movies

Fast and Furious 8 – Yeti Drifters

DOM (VIN DIESEL):  This is it, family.  One last ride.

TEJ (LUDACRIS – Cuz, really, who remember these character names?  I hate to look them up on IMDB): You said that already!  We’ve had like 7 last rides now!  We’ve been last riding since Bush’s first term!!!

LETTY:  (Michelle Rodriquez) – Yeah, I thought our last ride days were over a couple movies ago so I let the writers kill my character over.  She had to be resurrected when the movies started making big bucks again.

ROMAN (TYRESE):  Something funny!

HOBBS (THE ROCK):  Toretto, you son of a bitch.  You and your crew have cut such a wide path of destruction with your car crimes that as head of the anti-car crime task far, I should throw your asses in car crime jail for a million years!

DOM:  But we’re family!

HOBBS:  Your crew’s working for me now.  There’s a new duo in town:  BQB and The Yeti:  Tokyo Drifters.

ROMAN:  You mean they’re homeless hobos who wander the streets of Tokyo aimlessly?

HOBBS:  No.  The other kind of drifter.

DOM:  Why should we listen to you?

HOBBS:  Because I saved the franchise!

CUT TO:  TOYKO

:::LUDACRIS RAP SONG PLAYS::::

FAST ASS YETI

As rapped by Ludacris

God damn, that fur be flyin!

Hairy dude’s rollin and I aint lyin.

He’s gonna win the race I’m willing to bet-tee

Look out y’all, here comes the Yeti!

(Bookshelf Q. Battler in a tricked out muscle car vs. The Yeti stuffed into a tiny Nissan sports car)

BQB:  (revving the engine)  I’m gonna wipe the road with your hairballs, Yeti!

YETI:  Roar!  I’m the Yeti!

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Mar 31 2015
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True Music Stories

True Music Stories Part 3 – The Funky Hunks

PREVIOUSLY ON TRUE MUSIC STORIES:

Longtime friends Bookshelf Q. Battler aka Read N. Plenty and Bernie Plotznik aka MC Plotz travel to Hollywood in search of fame and fortune as a rap duo called “The Funky Hunks.”  They sign with Reuben Torkilsen, who, at the time, was considered the worst agent in Hollywood, his only client list being a sub-par magician and a dog.

At Reuben’s behest, they hold auditions for a third member, and pass on an up-and-coming Curtis “50-Cent” Jackson.

Hip Hop/ Rap - Rare Music Video

REUBEN:  Look boys.  I get it.  I’m new in the biz.  I have an office in a strip mall between a Shakey’s Pizza and a discount orthodontist.  But I’m one thing the other agents in this town are not.  I’m hungry.  I want to taste success as much as you two do.  I’m willing to work, I’ve got some great ideas, and I think you should listen to me.

BQB:  You suck, Reuben.

BERNIE:  Big time.  We want Dr. Dre.

REUBEN:  No offense, but Dr. Dre wouldn’t pee on you if you were on fire.  Now, listen, I really feel your group needs a third member.  Someone with street cred…someone with style and pizazz, someone with some star power that will rub off on you two…

BQB:  We’re lousy with star power.

BERNIE:  We’ve got street cred out the wazoo.

BQB:  Just the other day my Aunt Gertie told me I have copious amounts of street cred.

REUBEN:  You passed on 50-Cent.  Passed on that nice young man Busta Rhymes.  And what about that about Marshall Mathers guy?  He seemed very talented.

BQB:  Please, Reuben.  We’re already two white guys.  The rap game only has so much room for us.

BERNIE: Hell will freeze over before everyone in America pays attention to a song about a guy who calls himself “Slim Shady.”

REUBEN:  Alright.  Here’s my next idea.  You change your name from “Funky Hunks” to “Funky People” and add a female rapper.

BQB:  Reub, I think you’re missing out on the cleverness of our name.

BERNIE:  “Funk” rhymes with “Hunk.”

BQB:  We spent hours on that shit.

(A young Missy Elliot walks into the room)

REUBEN:  Boys, this is Missy Elliot.

BQB:  Chicks can’t rap.

REUBEN:  Ignore them, Missy.  Let’s hear what you’ve got.

MISSY ELLIOT 1999 FUNKY HUNK AUDITION

Thank you for seeing me today.  I call this ‘Work It.’

:::clears throat:::

Is it worth it?  Let me work it.

I put my thing down, flip it, and reverse it…

BQB:  Whoa, whoa, whoa!!!!

BERNIE:  Time out!  Stop the clock!

MISSY:  What?

BQB:  “I put my thing down, flip it, and reverse it?”

MISSY:  Yeah.

BQB:  So basically, you do nothing?

MISSY:  Huh?

BQB: Try to follow me on this.   If you put your thing down…flip it…then reverse it…you have essentially done nothing.  Your thing is back in its original position.  You might as well have not moved your thing at all.

MISSY:  It’s just a catchy lyric…

(BQB slaps his forehead.  Bernie pinches the bridge of his nose as if he is suffering from a tremendous headache).

BERNIE:  Alright, let’s do a little experiment here.

(Bernie takes out a piece of paper, writes “X” on one side and “Y” on the other)

BERNIE:  We have a paper.  We have “Side X” and “Side Y.”  In its default position, the paper has Side X facing up.  This paper is, by its very definition, “a thing.”  I take this thing, I flip it.  Side Y is now facing up.  I now reverse that action by flipping the paper over so that Side X is once again facing up.  In summation, I might as well have done nothing at all.  That’s science.  Your song is an affront to science.

(Missy turns to Reuben)

MISSY:  Are these dudes for real?

REUBEN:  Yes, unfortunately.

BQB:  I don’t think we’re asking for much for our third member to have a grasp of the basic principles of engineering and aerodynamics, do you?

BERNIE:  NEXT!

REUBEN:  You’re making a big mistake here fellas…

BQB:  Please.  This dame won’t make a dime off that song.

ANNOUNCER:  By 2002, Missy Elliot became richer than an old timey gold prospector and you couldn’t drive a car five feet without listening to “Work It” on the radio.

BQB:  All that proves is that we live in a nation of dunces, people too ignorant to understand science.

BERNIE:  It’s basic science!  She might as well have said, “I’m going to do nothing at all because to do something only to revert said something to its original state is to essentially do nothing at all!

BQB: Preposterous!

BERNIE:  Precisely!

ANNOUNCER:  The duo auditioned every aspiring rapper in the game, passing over one future success after another.  Finally, Carl McGillicuddy, the Shakey’s janitor poked his head in the room.

CARL:  Reuben, I’m mopping out Shakey’s shitter.  Want me to do yours while I’m at it?

REUBEN:  Sure.  Thanks.

BQB:  Whoa!  Who’s that?!

REUBEN:  He’s the Janitor.

BERNIE:  Hey!  Janitor!  Can you sing?

CARL:  Not a note.

BQB:  Can you stand in the background, hold a mic, pretend like you’re singing, and take home a paycheck that will be smaller than ours but still more than you make mopping out pizza joint shitters?

CARL:  Hell yeah.

BERNIE:  You’re hired!

TOMORROW ON TRUE MUSIC STORIES:  THE FUNKY HUNKS DEVELOP A BAD BOY IMAGE

“MUSIC” image courtesy of Flickr user raremusicvideo1 via a Creative Commons License

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