"I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure: That when the last dingdong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's, the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail." -William Faulkner, speech at the Nobel Banquet at the City Hall in Stockholm, December 10, 1950.

So Obama was given the coveted "Nobel Peace Prize" and I write about John Lennon and Barry Manilow. Why'd I even show up to work today?

Well, I think we all had the same reaction to the news. No one was outraged like when Steve Nash won NBA MVP for the second time. Not much news about who got robbed, or how Ahmadinejad had a better video.

Everyone just seemed to ask "What for?".

What harmonious feat in the peace-perpetuating community did he accomplish? What countries in this world are currently more serene for having somehow been touched by President Obama?

Well, the answer dear friends, is truly "blowing in the wind". You see, perhaps it's not what he did, but rather what he didn't do. Not so much what he stands for, but what he stands against. (Alright, now I even forgot what I was talking about)

Perhaps the fact that he hasn't made anything worse, by default just makes him better than every other eligible candidate on the planet.

So I did some research that may help shed some light on this for all of you who like me, every other year at this time, pretty much don't care.

The prize was bequeathed by Alfred Nobel who was a famous scientist who invented...wait for it..... DYNAMITE! Hmmm....explosive news, huh?
Yes, the Peace Prize offered by the guy who invented something that blows stuff up. Awesome!

Back in the day, he was known as "Le Marchand De La Mort", the Merchant of Death (it really sounds so much more romantic in French though.)

In an attempt to leave the world a better legacy, he created the Nobel prizes.

According to his will, the "Peace" prize should be awarded "to the person who shall have done the most or the best work for fraternity between nations, for the abolition or reduction of standing armies and for the holding and promotion of peace congresses." His will stated that the prize should be awarded by a committee of five people elected by the Norwegian Parliament.

Well that explains it. Every time I turn around those @*#$*%!* Norwegians are screwing it up for everyone. With their cheese and their...wood, and their...accords...and stuff.

Norway and Sweden were in union at that time (1890s), and Sweden was responsible for all foreign policy. Nobel thought there might be less political corruption if it were awarded by Norway than Sweden.

The Prize is presented every year in Oslo, in the presence of the king, where the Chairman of the Norwegian Nobel Committee presents to the "Nobel Laureate" who receives a diploma (that's a definite framer), a medal (if you open the first couple of buttons on your shirt, you can wear it to the club and hear all the ladies say "Oooh, is that the Nobel Peace Prize? Sexxxy!"), not to mention a fair bit o' cash (Roughly $1.5 million U.S.).

Here's the impressive part where the music guy answers the question,
"What does any of this have to do with music?".

Well, in the words of the late great James Brown, "Watch me now?":

The Nobel Peace Prize Ceremony is held at the Oslo City Hall, followed the next day by the Nobel Peace Prize Concert, which is broadcast to more than 450 million households in over 150 countries around the world (So sayeth Wikipedia). The concert is always a huge event with massive stars (I didn't go last time because of a mix-up on the guest list but that was probably just a mistake).

This year's concert is being hosted by Hollywood super-couple Will and Jada Pinkett Smith.

Some of the artists you can expect to see are:


Wyclef Jean sans Fugees (Oh Lauryn, where you at, girlfriend?)

Toby Keith (Oops, Wyclef's audience all go to the washroom at the same time)

Donna Summer (Wyclef's audience comes back, but they bring their parents)

Luis Fonsi (Oye, donde esta Menudo? You're welcome. Now you know more about him than anyone in the room.)

Amadou & Mariam (These two are actually awesome, plus they're blind and I've got my hands full pissing off Manilow fans).

So what have we learned here, people?

That it really doesn't matter who wins or who loses, so long as someone throws a kick-ass party right afterwards! I hope Obama still knows how to get down.

Happy thanksgiving everybody!

Tattoo You

As a fan of both Hip-Hop and NBA basketball, something I read recently struck me as amusing.

One of many similarities between NBA and Hip-hop culture is the trend of interesting body art. It was not long ago that it was rare to see basketball players with tattoos at all, let alone intricate designs reflecting personal philosophies, religious views or proclamations of a particular spiritual ideology. Now that we live in a world where every available surface seems to be an advertising opportunity, it seems fitting that toned bodies that are pleasing to the eye be utilized as a canvas for such profound messagerie.

It calls to mind a friend of my brothers who tattooed an intriguing ancient Chinese symbol on her back shoulder blade. Lovely a shoulder blade as it was, I was more fascinated with what this lovely specimen of femininity felt she wanted her back-viewing public to know about her. So I asked her what significance this curious symbol had to her. Her reply was, "Oh, I don't know. I just thought it would look really cool on my shoulder blade."

When I was done repeatedly banging my forehead against the back of a chair, I proceeded to speak to (I think I was lecturing) why anyone would permanently adorn themselves with a message that not only had no personal significance, but that could very well say something ugly or demeaning about them (as if the action itself hadn't already done that).

While this may surprise people, I now have information that will show that even athletes (who are supposed to be intellectually superior due to the 1 mandatory year of college) and rap artists who at the very least have to be literate (hey, you can't just memorize lyrics. You have to write them down) have been known to perform this very same blunder.

Shawn Marion's leg.

For example, former interim Toronto Raptor, Shawn Marion, a.k.a. Matrix, thought he had ink that said that very thing in Japanese. He recently discovered that it may have been more of a loose translation as instead of Matrix, his tattoo translates to "Demon bird moth balls"?!

I think a Manilow fan called me that once.
Britney Spears tattooed 3 Hebrew letters that seem to form a word on the back of her neck. It's apparently something from the Kabballah that means "healing", but it actually means nothing...nothing at all.

Oh well, I guess complete gibberish is better than "Evil spirit Cocker Spaniel".

Chris Anderson of the Denver Nuggets thought he tattooed the words "good" and "bad" on each of his shoulders (because that would have been super-clever), but apparently the word "bad" in Chinese is awfully close to their word for "Nausea". Guess which one he got.

Ladies and gentlemen, you can erase mistakes, you can tear pages out of books and hell, I just deleted a series of expletives regarding some of these geniuses but when you embed an inked image into your skin permanently, I think you owe it to yourself to do a little more research.

Better yet, here's an idea:

Stick to a language you actually understand. If that's asking too much because you have trouble with stuff like, oh I don't know...reading, but really feel you must have a certain portion of your body covered in ink, maybe try a picture.

Hey, it's your choice, but imagine meeting say, a Swedish woman who has a tattoo in English that she believes to say "Foxy Lady" but what it really says is "I have ambiguous sex organs". Would it have the same impact? My guess is that it may not come off as cool. Especially years from now when the grandchildren bring their friends over.

Body art can be sexy, but in the words of the artist once known as the artist formerly known as Prince, "forever is a mighty long time".

Peace out y'all.