Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
How did 97X get into that memorable scene in the movie Rain Man?
woxy.com > About > Q & A
As the old adage says, "The harder you work, the luckier you get." And we just got lucky (of course, after years of hard work!). In the spring of 1988, we got a call out of the blue from a movie company that was going to be filming in Cincinnati and wanted a tape of our station "image liners."
We were skeptical that anything would come of this, but we complied. We found out later that the researchers who scout locations had asked Cincinnati locals "Who's the hip/cool radio station in Cincinnati?" and we consistently got the most responses. When he was in Los Angeles, the Tom Cruise character probably would have listened to KROQ, the grandaddy of the Alternative format that we initially emulated when we started in 1983.
A dozen years after the movie won the Best Picture Oscar, we still get comments on our "movie debut"... and Dustin Hoffman saying "97X - BAM - The Future of Rock and Roll" six times will play on The Late Show for eternity!
Boy Band Singer Runs for Cincinnati Mayor
News on Yahoo! Music
ustin Jeffre, a former member of 98 Degrees, wants to be Cincinnati's next mayor, saying his love for his hometown and desire to make it better motivated his decision to run.
"I am serious about this, and I intend to win," Jeffre, 32, said last week.
Jeffre said he wants to bring people from all over the city together through Cincinnati's arts and entertainment venues and build a strong downtown.
"We need to sell this city back to the people of this city," he said. "We've forgotten how great this city can be."
He also wants VH1 to follow his campaign for a reality series. VH1 officials have said no decision has been made on his proposal.
I actually might consider this if it was Nick Lachey. He's dreamy.
Body of a giant, hands of a dwarf
Body of a giant, hands of a dwarf - The Washington Times: Sports
Michael Jordan's "hand picked" former number one overall draft choice Kwame Brown is blessed with the body of a Greek God but cursed with the hands of Mini-Me.
Etan Thomas: Slam Poet
Wizznutzz Poetry
KINGDOM COME
I am a King of one, subject to none but
I
and I
My
Eyes pregnant with visages of players to a throne
Pretenders who have shown, their souls turn like a basketball
A revolution.
I am the last left standing, the original prophet
I am so perfect so divine so ethereal so surreal
I cannot be comprehended except by my permission
My mons pubis is braided like Anubis before me
And now nobody can ignore me, score on me
I fill the lane with brains,
Reading futures in the stains
On my game worns.
Now I look upon my culture,
I see ballers, sure I do
Hard corers in Haute Couture, in furs
Enough to make my ancestry - stir
My brothers among me,
Kwame a black walnut tree,
Lorenzo in his Benzo, give Stevie Blake his Vitamin D
Gheorghe, the Great White Way,
My endocrine Giant is dying on the parquet
My soldier in hardwood war, Haywood
I ask: "What sound is made from the clapping of one small hand?"
A heart bigger that the prostate gland
of Abe
Honest, Master Pollin, an ego so kingly swollen, let me go,
Because the Foggy Bottom Metro is still an underground railroad
A time now of No kings,
No bling bling, a dawn for champions
-Rings.
Upon a time I was the first born here
In a time when King Hidi had
a taste for rookie cockery and chocolate fleece,
he held the locker room lease. Then in a day
to Phoenix, his reign nixed,
I showered for the first time in peace.
And then the King of Kings came to town
Riding on devils pacts, the backs of mules.
He brought his Airs(tm),
his nostalgic cloths, he filled arenas with the moths
Of decay
With a lady of white at his side
Knaefel,
comma, K.
Now they gave Mike a motor bike. "Ride away ride away"
But no ride can hold old men's pride
So with a wince, The Frog fired the Prince.
It was once wrote that
Of this traveler from an antique land
Two vast and balky legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Grand, half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
"My name is Michael, King of Kings:
Look upon my works, ye Faggots, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains.
Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
But the devil, the King, he is not a man.
Rather,
Its an Association
That cuts the checks,
So I kneel and look this devil in the eye.
And say:
I will honor my ancestors, for I am the hiphop poet,
the last poet,
And there will be
Another last poet
After me
And as I drop my knowledge, my backpack rap
At a Republic Gardens slam, it is your soft white daughters
who swallow it all
At what price?
A two drink minimum and I think:
Now who are you calling slave?
Who is King
And who the Knave?
NBA's Etan Thomas: "I am Totally Against This War"
NBA's Etan Thomas: "I am Totally Against This War"
Out of the ashes of Iraq come soldiers dressed in fatigues of fire Wearing helmets secured in smoke They've choked off the lies spewed out of the mouth of a burning bush
The true warrior's existing wake
Who's flames burned them at the stake
Cremated their bodies
And stuffed them in an urn wrapped in red, white, and blue....
Rummaging through a forest set ablaze by one lethal match
With witty catch phrases forever attached to the side of their kingdom
Operation Iraqi Freedom
Links to Al Qaeda
Eminent threats
And weapons of mass destruction.....
They've been skillfully thrown into the lion's den
Out of the frying pan and into the furnace
Their courage exceeds any measuring stick
But they can hear the footsteps of death creeping around the corner
For they've been led into the eye of the storm
Transformed into peacekeepers
Lending a helping hand for the poorly planned post-war strategy......
The Poetry in J.J.'s Soul
SI.com - NCAA Basketball - J.J. Redick poetry - Wednesday February 16, 2005 5:30PM
As I decide to fulfill my life's strategy
The devil insists on trying to battle me
I meet him in an empty field on the high plains
He throws temptations my way to inflict internal pain
Life and death matters, this ain't no game
It's mind over matter, the power of my brain
He thinks I'll give in if my muscles start to strain
He believes I'll submit to the evil of society's frame
And benefit from notoriety's gain
He says I don't have to properly train
and that he'll give me all the fame
and everyone will know my name
But I think he's insane
'Cause I know the truth- to gain is to give
To have pain is to live
So I call on my heavenly Father's name
And slowly watch the thunder and rain subside
I'm finally able to push the temptations aside
I went blow for blow, I went face to face
Now the devil knows, I'm able to escape
Not by a back door or an alternate route
I saw the middle high ground and I ran right through.
Word. Eat your heart out, Tom Tucker. You too Etan...
Monday, April 04, 2005
38 minor leaguers violate MLB's drug policyMoss, Machado among suspended
ESPN.com: MINORLBB - 38 minor leaguers violate MLB's drug policy
Seattle's Damian Moss and Ryan Christianson were among 38 players suspended Monday for violating baseball's minor league steroids policy, a group that included eight players from the Mariners' organization.
huh?
The best underground internet radio station based out of suburban Cincinnati that I have come across in some time!
woxy.com > Home
As if that weren't enough, David Lowery will bring his "Lounge Act" to their posh studios live Tuesday at 3 pm edt. The Cracker/Camper Duo
will also be playing a couple of mysterious shows in the greater Cincy area (but no Kentucky). If only we had artificial relatives in the Queen City...
Buffalo News - Reshaping hockey's future
Buffalo News - Reshaping hockey's futureThis proposal breaks the mold. The Sabres have devised a cage that maintains the post-to-post width at 6 feet at the top and bottom while bowing the sides outward and the crossbar upward.
The posts would peak 3 inches wider than the current form, while the crossbar would be 6 inches higher at the crest. The net also wouldn't be as deep, to facilitate wraparounds.
"I was upset when I heard about it, but once I saw it, it's not that big of an increase," Sabres goalie Martin Biron said. "I warmed up to it as soon as I saw it."
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Hamm's Bear For President!
Damn. I know I should be posting more as part of my comeback, but doesnt' that really say it all? I thought so.
Monday, January 31, 2005
Guess Who's Back!
Back again. Bojangles is back! Tell a friend...
Mr. Bojangles (caution, watch out for extreme rockin')
I knew a man Bojangles and he danced for you in worn out shoes
With silver hair, a ragged shirt and baggy pants, the old soft shoe
He jumped so high, he jumped so high,
Then he lightly touched down
I met him in a cell in New Orleans, I was - down and out
He looked at me to be the eyes of age as he spoke right out
He talked of life, he talked of life, he laughed, slapped his leg a step
Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles, dance!
He said his name, Bojangles, then he danced a lick across the cell
He grabbed his pants a better stance, oh, he jumped up high,
Then he clicked his heels
He let go a laugh, he let go a laugh,
Shook back his clothes all around
Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles, dance!
He danced for throws at minstrel shows and county fairs
Through out the south
He spoke with tears of fifteen years how his dog and him
Had traveled about
His dog up and died, he up and died, after twenty years he still grieves
He said I dance now at every chance in honky tonks
For drink and tips
But most of the time I spend behind these county bars
'Cause I drinks a bit'
He shook his head and as he shook his head
I heard someone ask him `Please'
Please ..........
Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles, dance!
Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles, dance!
Friday, December 24, 2004
Monday, November 29, 2004
CLARA STACK: 9/15/1926 - 11/29/2004
This one goes out to a pretty special lady. A few of you have had the privilege of meeting Grandma Stack over the years, and any who missed out have surely heard her name mentioned at least a time or two dozen. I sincerely doubt that too many grandsons had a closer relationship with their grandmother. Despite my growing up 4 hours away, she would drive out to visit us three or four times every year, usually travelling by herself. Every visit was filled with hours of Uno, Rummy Cube, Parcheesi, you name it. She was a poor (if enthusiastic) game player, and a very classy loser, who loved every minute of it. She could be counted on to always bring at least four or five boxes of wonderfully marshmallowy pre-sweetened cereal for me to devour before my sisters could even get near them (it was a real treat for us country kids - all readers should know how much I enjoy these things).
One of my fondest early memories is the time my younger sister and I tried to sabotage her car by shoveling snow into the grill, in the vain hope that she wouldn't be able to leave. Sure, it didn't come close to working, but grandma got a kick out of it, as I'm sure my dad did before he very sternly made us go down to the barn and hose it out and then dry off the engine by hand. Or the time (grandma must have been quite a bit younger) when she and I made family portraits of everyone with snowmen. On another occasion, grandma urgently had to leave, and then proceeded to make it almost 20 miles before turning around and coming back to steal another precious hour or so getting whupped by her grandkids at Uno.
When I went to college, in the big city (at Le Moyne) my roommate, Slim Colt, and I would visit every week or so to chat, help grandma grocery shop, eat a sumptuous non-cafe dinner, do a little laundry, and play some cut-throat pitch. We usually ended up laying on the floor and rubbing our distended tummies, albeit victorious, and quite happy. Grandma never seemed to fare too well in these games (despite the fact that she kept score), but she certainly enjoyed them. Slim continued to visit, sans me, even after we graduated - and has stayed in contact, even with his recent move to Atlanta. He is a good man.
I know she had, for 30 plus years, a weekly game with her "Uno Ladies" right up until last Friday. For the past 15 years or so, the ladies had to mark the blue and green cards, just so they could tell which was which. It didn't hold them back much. She and I had a high-stakes pitch series going, with a first class steak dinner on the line. I think I ended up leading by about 80 games, but she never had to pay up. And that is the way we both wanted it. It's not that she wouldn' t have been happy to do it. I don' t think I've ever known anyone who took more pleasure in good food. Or even fast food. How many grandmas love Taco Bell chalupas and burrito supremes? Mine sure did, she was cool that way. Wendy's burgers, Dinosaur ribs, hawaiian pizza, e-mail, gameshows, she'd even try to enjoy a four hour Yankees game if I wanted to watch it. Yeah, the whole thing.
I had the pleasure of living with her, at two different intervals, for a total of almost a year. It was hardly by design either time, but I know I wouldn't trade that time for anything now. I had my freedom, just so long as I did the shopping every Tuesday night. It's funny to me now, I guess, how well a septuagenarian and her 50-years-younger grandson can connect.
It was really never forced or uncomfortable. Sure, she'd get upset when I said Alex Trebek didn't have the personality to interact with contestants. Yeah, there was the incident with the wing joint, and the cheeseburgers, and the sleeping on the living room floor. But, in all honesty, I can say she was more of a friend than a grandmotherly figure. Anyone who ever saw us interact would testify to that. There were plenty of nights when we would both sit there, in our matching blue recliners, reading our respective books, and watching PAX.
I guess what upsets me the most, maybe the only bad thing about her going when she did, was that I was supposed to set up her Christmas tree this week. That was always one of her favorite things. As kids, we always came to Syracuse for Thanksgiving. After the feast was consumed, and the Cowboys game ended, it was time to put up her tree. Tradition. The next day we would open our Christmas gifts from her (invariably the best ones we recieved). Justine and I gave her a new tree for Christmas, two years ago, which she loved. Setting up the tree would have been a great opportunity for us to hang out. I hadn't seen G-Stack in about two months, which is probably a record (at least for the last ten years). I'd only talked to her a couple times since her 78th birthday in mid-September. Thank God I got a chance to talk to her this past Friday. She'd had a nice Thanksgiving, was looking forward to having the tree to look at, and hoping to feel better soon. I know she was very happy to know Justine and I were planning to visit my parents for Christmas, and wondering if we could stop in to visit along the way. We wouldn't have missed it for the world.
The editors would like to apologize if this isn't exactly what bojanglin' is normally all about. At times the screen may have been a little blurry, but it is really not an unhappy occasion. Grandma Stack was a very religious person, and wanted desperately to be able to live on her own, and avoid an "old folks" home. Just last Christmas she visited one to spread cheer and sing carols. As would perfectly befit her, the picture at the top of this entry is both musical notes (she played organ at her church for 35 years) and a chocolate mold (I told you about the food thing).
God bless you, Grandma Stack.
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Chunky Campbell Eats Rams Like a Meal
Mark Campbell showed again why he may be the most dominant TE this side of Timmy Euhus, and gave football pundits the world over a chance to compose a cheesier headline than yours truly. Thanks to the efforts of Campbell, long snapper John Dorenbos, and return man "Fast Freddie" Smith, the streaking Bills improved their record to third best in division, trouncing the Moufons 37-17.
His drinking is the least of it
problem drinker
Ever have a friend who just doesn't know when to say when? Meet Symon Schermerhorn. He not only drinks to excess (and then gets violent), he also constantly coos like a pigeon and tries to hump his underage companion against her wishes, though an elbow will do late at night. He's also Dutch.
Friday, November 19, 2004
A Complete Idiot's Guide to the Stockade District
The old homestead. Not all that old compared to its surroundings (1913). Not much to look at (other than the wacky paint job), but alright for living. Located in the heart of the historic Stockade district, half a block from Arthur's in one direction and Slick's in the other. The Stockade was New York State's first historic district, all the way back in 1973! It is likely the country's oldest "unspoiled" residential neighborhood. It is home to what the National Parks Service called "the highest concentration of historic period homes," with over a 40 homes in excess of 200 years in age. Cool, huh?
The area was originally settled in 1661 by Dutch traders. It was completely destroyed by fire in the 1690 massacre [see Lawrence, below]. Due to its location, Schenectady served as an important suppy line during the Revolutionary War, Gen. Washington visited several times. When in town, he liked to drink and gamble on a grassy knoll overlooking the Greyhound station with other prominent citizens. Honest, there is a sign to prove it. A few years after Washington became our first President and eventually died, along came the Great Fire of 1819. This inferno, raging along the waterfront, destroyed most of the establishments that serviced the bustling trade up and down the Mohawk River. Over 200 building were destroyed in all. Most of these businesses were rebuilt along State Street, which was closer to the new Erie Canal. This helped to preserve the Stockade area as the historic residential district we know and love today!
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