A smattering of bad rapper names

It's nothing new for a musician to use a stage name. People often tend to forget that David Bowie is not a real name, neither is Ringo Starr or Bob Dylan for that matter. But aliases for rock musicians have always tended to be something which at least resembles a birth name. Hip hop music, on the other hand, has the distinction of being the only style of music where it is common practice to adopt a ridiculous moniker, which has little if anything to do with what your parents decided to call you. I'm not sure why this happened, but the only rapper I can think of who uses his real name is Saul Williams - even Chuck D of Public Enemy shortens his name to give it more of that hip hop punchiness.

Now, the use of these names is not nessesarily a bad thing. Names like DMC, RZA, Rakim, Dr. Dre and KRS-One are all tough, smart, catchy, and, well, cool-sounding. Ridiculous alteregos like Flava Flav, Q-Tip, Snoop Doggy Dogg, Ol' Dirty Bastard, and Chali 2na reflect the hipness and humor of their respective rappers. But one of many things I have learned working in a music store is that for each rapper who spends a lot of time coming up with his perfect stage name, there are a dozen nobodies who seemingly name themselves on a whim. Most of them seem to belong to the commercially and creatively dead subgenre of gangster rap, and their desperation to pick a name that makes them sound "tough" or "like a criminal" often results in them picking something which sounds like a cheap imitation detergent you might buy at K-mart. A few of these guys, though, are apparently brainy and sophisticated political rappers - which means they really should know better than to pick names like these.

Here's a few I jotted down during my last run-through of the hip hop section:

Phatzo - I'm sure that Phatzo himself considers this to be an extremely witty reference to his own presumably massive body weight/coolness, but the truth is that a) no one has used the term "phat" in any sentence for at least five years, and b) while being "big" or "B.I.G." is considered to be badass, being "fat" is not. I find it hard to believe this guy could be threatening, unless he perhaps raps about how he's going to sit on anyone who disses him.

Fifth Ward Weebie - Now I have no clue what a "weebie" is, all I know is that it's one letter away from "weenie." Ooh, very scary. Judging from the amount of red around this guy's eyes in his photos, and the use of extreme greens on the album cover, I would guess that a "weebie" is a marijuana cigarette. Which doesn't make it any of a better name than "weenie" - is he trying to say that he lets other people smoke him on a regular basis?



Oddatee - Another thing which confuses me is why so many of these guys need to change the spellings of normal words. Why did he need to? Was there another rapper who already named himself "Oddity"? If so, was the name really *so* good that it was worth mispelling in order to use it?

Lil Cuete - I guess "Cuete" means something tough in spanish, judging from the mean way this guy (who looks about 17, with some facial hair) is posing on his album cover. I don't know, I read it as "Lil' Cutie." Which isn't threatening as much as it is *adorable*. There are actually a lot of bad rap names with "Lil" in the name - Lil Bow Wow, Lil Tweety, etc. They always grow up to drop the "lil" and completely fail at being adult rappers. Because come on, who is going to buy and album by a guy named "Tweety"?



Turk - Oh shit! He's Turkish! Scary shit, man. Very threatening.

Mr. Lif - I'm really just curious about what a "Lif" is. Is it short for "lift"? If so, what the hell does that mean? Is it supposed to be threatening? Do his lyrics read like "I'm gonna lif' you up while I beat you down/and lif' up the banks all around town"? Is it in reference to an elevator? Perhaps it's some sort of abbreviation for his real name - however, your guess is as good as mine what that name would be. Lifrey? Lifford? Lifworth?

Mr. Servon - Another bad "Mr." name. I know he probably means it as in "you got served" but I can't help but read it as in "how may I serve you?" Does he work as a butler or something? "Mister Servon, please sniff my wine cork. Then run down to the store and pick up the laundry." He drives the limo while Mr. Lif works the elevator.

Drag-On - Meant to imply that this guy is like one of those giant fantasy lizards. Actually implies that this guy puts a dress on every time he performs.

Kastlevania - Hmmm, yes. It's relatively cool that this guy (or these guys, if it's a group) named himself/themselves after a video game (and one of the classics at that), but I don't really get the strategy of simply taking a name for a movie or game and changing the spelling. I'm surprised there aren't rappers named things like "Tacksi Driva" or "Megga Mann." And to top it off these guys only changed one letter. I think I'll name my new rap group, um, "Titanik" or "Tidanic" or something along those lines.

Da Entourage - Entourage? "A group of attendants or associates"? So these guys are, like, the losers that follow some other guy around? Doesn't sound very badass... I also can't stand the replacement of the word "the" with "da," as if it somehow makes it more ghetto to not spell correctly. However, rap feuds would be a lot more amusing, in my opinion, if they argued about which of the two of them have worse spelling skills.

Wreck - Really not that funny a name. More funny is this guy's album title, which is "Pocket Full of Quarters." Sounds pretty tough, huh? This guy is going to the arcade, no bullshit, and he's going to put those f'ing quarters into the machines until his pockets are empty, fool.



The Wizzard - Either this guy is blissfully unaware that "Wizzard" was already the name of Roy Wood's retro-glam group from the 70's, or he chose his name in the hopes of confusing some of Wood's occasionally obsessed fans. Regardless of his reasoning, "Wizzard" remains one of the worst possible names for *any* thing, especially a band or artist.

The Jacka - I think he means like a "car jacka," but that doesn't quite come across. The more logical implication is that he enjoys "jackang off" when he can't get a date for the evening.

Mo B. Dick - The *king* of bad rap names. This is without a doubt the worst, the stupidest, the most blatantly braggard and poorly crafted of them all. Not only is it a reference to a piece of classic literature, it's also a stupid nod to this gentleman's cock size. It would be a very good name for a porn star, but unless this guy is constantly rapping about how big his own penis is, then it doesn't work. Actually, if this guy *did* rap about his own penis, then I would probably want to hear it.

Sweetenlo - This guy was pouring sweetener into his coffee when he realized he had just stumbled upon the best rap name ever. He was still working in McDonalds when he realized he was wrong. His first album has the endlessly amusing title "Not To Be Tooken Lightly."

Bubba Sparxx - Another name more worthy of a pornographer, and one of the only people on this list to achieve *some* level of fame. This guy came along during the whole late-nineties "white rap" movement, spawned by the genuinely talented but somewhat egotistical Eminem. I guess Bubba here figured he'd play up his honky image, giving himself a name usually reserved for the redneckiest of rednecks. However I can't hear it without thinking of that shrimp guy from "Forrest Gump." As for his surname - well, I don't see how on its own "Sparxx" could belong to anything other than an extremely homoerotic DJ group.

Baby AKA the #1 Stunna - Okay, this guy has *two* names and they're *both* terrible. I don't think I have to go into why. The funniest thing is that he named his album "Birdman" (as in "of Alcatraz"), which while not great is about twenty times a better alias than either of the ones he actually goes by.

W.C. and the Madd Circle - This guy was actually in the Westside Connection with Ice Cube and Mack 10, I guess he drew the short straw when they were picking names. Perhaps "W" and "C" are his genuine initials, I don't know. All I know is that "W.C." is often used as an abbreviation for "water closet," a British term for "bathroom." I am certain that British tourists chuckle even more than I do whenever they run across his albums...

Rapper Big Pooh - Um, this guy's name is "Big Pooh.""Big Pooh." As in "I have to go to the bathroom and take a Big Pooh." I honestly cannot believe that this one is for real. But I've seen the CD. As if it weren't enough that this guy named himself after *excrement*, he also decided not to go with the more traditional "M.C." title and instead go with "rapper." Which I initially misread as "raper." "Raper Big Pooh." Just say it out loud, and try not to laugh or get somewhat grossed out.



I'm sure I will discover more of these as I continue to work the hip hop section. I will share any new ones I come up with. And by the way, here is a disclaimer to any of the (presumably frightening) rappers covered here: if you by any chance find this site and are pissed off that some white kid is making fun of your name, then please, please, *please* do not kill me. Just ask me to take it down and I will, no problem. Just please don't make Phatzo sit on me...

On Dreams and Elvis Impersonators

As some people may know, I am one of those hippie sorts who keeps a dream log (i.e. writes down everything I can remember from my dreams). Now, I don't do this for psychological, or fortune-telling reasons - I personally think that dreams don't say much about our actual lives, and when they do it's nothing that we couldn't have figured out while awake. I expect no revelations from my dreams. But what I do expect, and get fairly frequently, are surreal and cinematic short stories (which occasionally seem to stretch into novel length, although I have heard that the mind never sticks with one dream for more than five minutes at a time). So no, I don't think dreams hold the answers to my daily problems - but as far as artistic inspiration goes, I don't think I could ask for a better source.

Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of dreams isthe fact that no two people seem to dream the same way. Mine are often epic, sometimes leaning towards science fiction - well, they all take place sometime in the future, at any rate. I never dream about the present, it's always some time 5 to 1000 years away. No one elses dreams seem to share this particular pattern, but they all have elements which make them unique to the dreamer. Rick Vietch, and incredibly accomplished comics artist who publishes his own illustrated dream log as the "Rare Bit Fiends" series, dreams about friends of his and celebrities in bizarre settings, for example: him an Neil Gaiman are making a statue of giant flaming demon skull, which they title "Frank Zappa" - then decide that "Marvin Gaye" would be a more suitable name for it. His dreams are short and often amusing, but have little structure compared to the dreams of, say, Alejandro Jodorowski, a master author/director who uses his own grand, often western-tinged dreams as inspiration. Part of it is just that I enjoy these people's work, but a bigger part of it is that I am simply fascinated by what people's brains come up with behind their backs.

The best dream I have heard recently is one told to me by the roommate's girlfriend, which I had a starring role in. Apparenly I was dressed as Elvis, and when asked if I was running late for work, I replied "I'm hunka hunka calling in sick today." Great punchline. Far different from my dreams, or those of Vietch and Jodorowski, but amusing in a completely seperate way.

And now, a summary of one of my own dreams from the other night. I needed a place to write it down and my blog page had been left open on my computer, so I jotted down everything I could remember. I'll only going to give the short version, though. I think it's very possible that a complete list of tiny details is only really interesting to the person who dreamed it.

I was working as a caterer/DJ, for some sort of wedding party. It was in some sort of an "industrial ballroom," which had a lot of walkways and looked more like a power plant interior than a place for a party. Princess Di and Prince Charles were there too, I remember taking their food orders. A gay man who shops at my work requested I play "A You're Adorable" from that John Lithgow kid's album I have, and then lip-synched it to his lover, who was some guy with a barbershop moustache.

The ballroom was attached to the back of a grocery store, which I passed through as I was leaving. I ran into a guy whom I see every now and then, who recommended I try some stingray meat, claiming it was amazing for healing and tasted just like shark. Since I had never had shark, I asked what it tasted like, and he said "oh, it tastes just like foam."

After reaching the parking lot, I remembered that I had actually parked in the underground parking area. I headed back towards the building but rather than using the elevator inside, I used one right outside the door. It was quite a strange elevator, though - it had a sunken floor and glass walls, and there was an "emergency escape panel" located on one side, which led to what looked like a long dark tunnel. The controls were confusing too. I pushed what buttons I could and went to floor 27.

Sure enough, the thing moved downwards, but didn't take me anywhere near the garage. It took me to the middle of a field, nearby a tree trunk that had four teenagers loitering on it. When I asked where I was they told me that the elevator I was on didn't actually take you anywhere inside of the building, but to one of 27 different bizarre locations. And that once my selection was made, there was no way to travel back, I was trapped. The place where we were was deep underground, and they claimed to be the only people there. They also warned me that the emergency panel in fact didn't work at all, that it just led to an extremely dark room.

However, just then I saw a woman jogging by with her dog, and ran after her to get further info. It turned out that the kids had been partially lying to me - yes, it was a transport elevator and yes we were underground, but there *were* more people besides the kids living there, and the escape panel *would* take me right to floor 27 of the parking garage. I thanked her, went back and gave the kids the finger, entered the tunnel and got back to my car.

A week or so later, I was at my grandmother's house for dinner. I told them my story and they laughed, as if to say "Oh, the elevator in front of the Ralph's building? I remember when they put that thing in, I *always* thought it was a stupid idea... I'm surprised more people don't get lost permanantly on that thing." They asked me if I had gotten off on the Venus or jungle floors, and then I woke up, running late for a very important date.

Is there anything I can learn from this dream? Freudian analysis would tell us that this dream means I am a homosexual who wants to have sex with my own mother (the elevator shaft and escape tunnel signifying a desire to return to the womb). But then, Freud was a twisted pervert who also felt that women were jealous of men's penises. I really don't see much reason to analyse dreams - I've attempted to do so in the past and nothing really came of it. I think I'll stick with my current method of regarding dreams as a sort of "interactive television" for now.

Of course, if anyone reading this has a good analysis of that dream, feel free to share it. I am certain it would be good for a laugh.

In praise of the Red Tide

Red tide is hardly a little-known phenomonon, especially in coastal cities like my own. However, from what I have seen the general consensus is that red tide is little more than an extremely annoying occurance - for several weeks, the ocean changes from a lovely blue to a murky red, perhaps better described as a shitlike brown. Surfers are understandably irked by this, as it is no fun to ride around in something resembling raw sewage, as are romantic beach-goers, who would prefer the sun set into something a little more appetizing. But these people are missing something, and their problem is rather simple.

They don't go to the beach at night.

Somehow, the myth has developed that the beach is somehow less "awesome" at night then in the day, despite the fact that night does away with both crowds and sunburning, which are the beach's only real drawbacks. Most nights, you can walk for a good three miles down the beach and only run into at most five people - and it isn't much different during red tide. It's strange that this is the case, because night is when the beach in general and red tide in particular get *really* good.

I won't pretend to know the actual natural phenomona which causes the event, but suffice to say the creatures which make up red tide are bioluminescent - i.e. they glow in the dark. I can remember my first experience with red tide... I've always enjoyed the beach at night, so imagine my surprise when one of my late-night walks was accompanied by bright blue neon lights from the water. It was like a smaller and one-hued version of Las Vegas. That night I must have stared at the waves for hours, hypnotized by the bizarre patterns which shot out each time one broke...

It was only to become more and more fun with each subsequent encounter. There are good nights for red tide, and then there are *great* nights. You see, when the phenomenon is strong enough, then it effects not only the water but the sand on the shore as well. Meaning that, when you walk, your footprints flash brightly, and that when you kick sand, colors shoot out like they would from a foot-mounted laser beam. Someone like me, who is eternally nostalgic for his playful childhood days, can only see something like this as a sort of blessing from above. The sandbox which kept me so entertained as a child, I now know, is nothing compared to this new radioactive glowing sandbox. And not only does my new sandbox glow, but there is now no mother to call me home...

And it just keeps getting better. This summer marked my first chance to go surfing in the red tide, which was possibly the most amazing encounter yet. While I have heard some rumors that red tide is unhealthy to go swimming in, I have never had any problems with it. Quite the opposite - swimming in it is perhaps even more fun than building sand castles in it. In places where the effect is strongest, every movement of your body causes an instant trail of electric light. Put goggles on and jump underwater, and you can become the Human Torch (only blue) for as long as you can hold your breath. Surfing in it is the logical next step... there is something truly amazing about riding a wave while your surroundings are virtually on fire. Night surfing is rumored to be one of the most dangerous activities possible - if that is the case, then I feel extremely talented, as I have done it several times (in allegedly poisionous water, no less) and each time come out feeling even more alive than usual.

Miraculously, the red tide is still in effect this year, after about a month and a half. It usually only lasts a week or two - if you haven't yet, I advise you to go check it out before it vanishes. This prolonged red tide is something of a mystery to me, but a welcome one - and to be honest, red tide, period, is a bit of a mystery. I'm sure there is some scientific explanation, but there's no way it can describe exactly how or why red tide is just so *gorgeous*. I tend to think of the phenomonon as a sign - a sign that if there is some greater force out there that created this world, then he has damn good taste in art.

On cars and runaway frogs

I've never been much of a "car guy," although I couldn't quite tell you why. It's not that I don't *like* cars - a lot of them are extremely neat looking, and technologically impressive. And of course I am rather glad that I have one myself - not having to walk everywhere is defenitely a good thing, although I'm sure I would be in far better shape were I constantly on foot. But while I am extremely grateful to cars for their existence, I have *never* been able to get "into" them (figuratively speaking, of course). You know what I mean - I just can't get down with the mentality of people who look at car mags, drooling over the Ferrari centerfold as if it were a hamburger - or who swivel their head each time an expensive car passes by, as if the trunk had a pair of extremely attractive women's buttocks attached. I'm pretty much content with a car that drives me around without breaking - all of the fancy features are really just window dressing for a machine that, on the inside, works no better than my own. So I guess I'm just not the type who can covet a car. Unless, that is...

To be honest, there is one car that *has* always intrigued me, and that I *do* wish I owned on a weekly basis. It is not a Porsche, nor is it a Ferrari, nor any of the other fancy designer cars which give other men my age huge boners. No, sir or madam, I speak of the Sophia III - the car originally seen by the world in the classic Nintendo game "Blaster Master."



While frequently described as a tank, the Sophia in fact lacks treads and is indeed four wheeled, which means that it technically classifies as a car or truck. And *what* a car or truck! Car fanatics can rave all they want about the "special" features on their favorite vehicles, but most of the time these features amount to little more than, say, a speaker in the trunk, which isn't exactly practical if you ask me. The Sophia's features are things that would actually come in handy, on a daily basis, and would revolutionize mass transit if only people realized it. They include:

1. Jumping - By use of what can be assumed to be an extremely elaborate hydraulic system, the Sophia can jump approximately 30-50 feet in the air (depending on how hard the jump button, located on the side of the stick shift, is pressed). As if that isn't enough, it can change directions in mid-air (I assume that this is done with some sort of rotational super-magnet, but again I am not a car expert). I'm not sure why more jumping cars have not been manufactured - it strikes me as an incredibly useful feature. Imagine, for example, that you are on your way to a concert when the freeway suddenly becomes near-immobile. Rather than slowly wading through the mass traffic, you could use your Sophia to leap and turn onto a nearby overpass, allowing you to access a sidestreet without all of the endless lane-switching. Useful? Unless you are an idiot who can't aim, then yes.

2. Aquatic - The Sophia is fully aquatic, which means it can move around in water almost the exact same way as it does on land (the only noticable differences being slower movement and decreased gravity). Now, this is not just a neat trick for when you want to take your steady girlfriend on a romantic undersea voyage... just think how much less traffic there is in the ocean than there is on land. Goodbye, congested freeways - I think I'll be taking the scenic route from now on. The one thing to watch out for would be continental shelves - if you accidentally drove off of one, it could take you as long as a day to leap from underwater plateau to plateau, to get your Sophia eventually back to dry land.

3. Flight - As if leaping were not enough, the Sophia can also be equipped with a flight attachement, or "power up" as car enthusiasts call them. The flight feature is somewhat different from that of the DeLorean, which uses magnets to keep the car at a fixed point above the ground. The Sophia instead uses rockets on its underbelly to propel it upwards into the air. Now, with the price of plane tickets going through the roof, and the ever-present risk of terrorism, it makes less and less sense to limit air travel to a distinguished few. There is of course the risk of running out of fuel (in fact, the Sophia can only stay airborne for about 15 seconds before it needs to recharge), but this is not much of a problem, as the hydraulics on the car rather amazingly protect it from drops of up to 1 mile in the air.

So what is there to dislike about the Sofia? Aside from the fact that a single model is bound to cost upwards of 8,000,000 dollars, the fact that the thing is clearly not electric and probably pollutes more than the entire city of Los Angeles, and its present fictional status - absolutely nothing. Sunsoft, the creators of the vehicle, have gone practically bankrupt (largely thanks to the dissapointing "Blaster Master 2"), but there is no reason that GM or Honda couldn't take an interest in the design. Is anyone else willing to help me in my campaign? If so, please comment on this entry, to help me in my campaign - "Get the Sophia off of our screens and into our garages."