Gooooooooooood morning Rich wait, where am I?

Welcome to my occasional reader, who must be going through convulsions after my latest vacation from blogging. Whoops ! I just spilled my sarcasm shake all over the computer. Sorry for that.

Honestly, a lot has changed in the last three days.

I got a new bed. I moved to an entirely different city where I know about two people (my roommate, who works all kinds of hours that can only be matched by a speed freak and his older brother). I woke up yesterday and thought I was in my room senior year of college for half of a second. I can now watch every single major league baseball game in high definition (only for another free week). Oh, and I started a new job.

In rare fashion, I’ll actually talk about my private life for once (I never intended this site to be, “Why Elliot Mann really likes cheese curds”). I made the decision awhile ago that I would continue in my profession because that is what I was destined to do. After interviewing for several jobs during the last two years – some great, some only with a better salary – I ended up with the best one I went after. I’m not sure how it ended up that way. Regardless, it reminds me of Rob Gordon talking about trying to get to third base:

Sometimes I got so bored of trying to touch her breast that I would try to touch her between her legs. It was like trying to borrow a dollar, getting turned down, and asking for 50 grand instead

Except that’s what I feel like happened. I asked for a dollar from a bunch of people and they all said, “Get a job hippie!” Then I asked this company for $50,000 and they seemed glad to do so. Things in my life don’t necessarily happen “the regular way” though, so I shouldn’t seem that surprised. Maybe I’m just giddy because I can’t wait to get started and I know that if I bust my ass, great things can happen. It’s a funny thing, ambition.

When I enter (insert new company here), I’m anxious, nervous, fidgety like a new kid in school, or how it always felt during basketball try-outs. I’m sure you’ve been there before; either at a theater, choir or spelling bee try-out. While everyone mulls around like a crowd of sheep, nerves run high, each kid looking at those close by to see how they’re able to keep calm. You just want to actually play basketball or read your lines - the one place you feel comfortable, to show your skills and prove you belong.

That’s how I feel in the newsroom. I actually start smiling like a got-damn fool in excitement of starting my beat and going to meetings and interviewing people. Someone actually told me they would be checking the ergonomics of my desk. Really? Checking the placement of my chair? Reviewing the height of my monitor? At my old job that would have consisted of putting a thicker phone book under the screen.

Yeah, I’m actually pining for the next school board meeting. I don’t think anyone has that listed on their E-Harmony or match.com profiles.

I’ll always have a spot in my heart for my previous newspaper and that city. I met great people who turned into unforgettable friends. But as my roommate asked me today, “How was the first day of the rest of your life?,” an answer came easily.

Can’t wait for tomorrow.

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫

Elliot writes for a daily newspaper, assuming he finishes orientation. Contact him here.

Commentary: Sara Jane Olson should be released, but to another country; Former terrorist should have been tried for treason

Somewhere buried under the headlines of the great March snow-pocalypse, sits news about Sara Jane Olson being released from prison.

The mature public will remember Olson from her actions in 1970s, when she participated in a deadly California bank robbery and the attempted bombing of Los Angeles police cars as a member of the urban terrorists who dubbed themselves the Symbionese Liberation Army. Known then as Kathleen Soliah, she went on the lam for several years after those crimes, taking a new name and according to the Star Tribune, reinvented herself as a housewife, DFL activist and a community theater actress.

In 2001, Olson pleaded guilty and was sentenced to 14 years in prison for attempting to bomb Los Angeles police cars in 1975, and Olson later pleaded guilty to second-degree murder in the 1975 shooting death of a customer during a bank robbery in Carmichael, Calif. A year later, her sentenced was reduced. And now Thursday, she’s free.

Wait… what?!!

In the middle of a growing “War on Terror” and only a few years into a what should have been a lengthy prison sentence, Olson is free to cavort with her family and friends. Olson is a victim of privilege, a rebel without clue, cause or concern for her actions. Maybe she’ll write a second edition to her cookbook “Serving Time: America’s Most Wanted Recipes.” (She was apprehended due to an America’s Most Wanted tip.) Maybe Olson will resume her political career. Maybe she’ll get to watch her children grow up.

But while she resumes her life, a church worker and mother of four still sits buried in a California cemetery.

Myrna Opsahl, who made the mistake of going to the bank, is dead. She will never get to see her first grandchild, or even attend the weddings of her children. She has yet to have the chance to write a cutesy cookbook, either.

Is this the new American Dream? Kill an innocent person in cold blood and serve less than 10 years? Write a “funny” little cookbook to capitalize on your notoriety?

Sara Jane Olson should be walking out of prison — I wholeheartedly agree to that. But it should be straight into U.S. Naval care so they can dump her in another country. According to one of Olson’s cronies, the now-free terrorist also kicked a pregnant teller in the abdomen which resulted in a miscarriage.

We seem so concerned about the battle abroad, but maybe we should take a deeper look at our own. America is a great country because we have the ability to seek change without using bloodthirsty tactics, because we are able to debate our political and ethical concerns. We shouldn’t have to worry about taking five slugs in the chest when we drop off our payroll check because some half-brained “political organization” is trying to make a name for themselves.

America has no place for people like Sara Jane Olson and her former SLA comrades, who started out in present-day, Marine-bashing Berkeley, Calif. Apprently they haven’t changed much there, either.

Olson should be tried for treason in her assistance to the enemy of all Americans: ruthless thugs who needlessly toss away valuable and innocent U.S. lives.

Why should Sara Jane Olson get a chance at parole and life as an American citizen? Myrna Opsahl doesn’t.

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫

Elliot writes for a daily newspaper and also frequently at elliotmann.org. He believes people should question the government, but abhors when people mistake that ability with violence against everyday citizens. Contact him here.

Additional reading: Star Tribune

“You may all go to hell, and I will go to Texas” - Thanking the Troops Part 2

Gazette reporter Elliot Mann recently traveled to Dallas along with a group of St. Croix Valley residents to thank members of the armed services arriving in the U.S., as well as those departing to Iraq and Afghanistan. This account is the second in a three-part series detailing his experience.

DALLAS - As I crouched, took aim with my camera and waited for the first troops to arrive at the Dallas/Fort Worth Airport, I nearly made a mistake that would have cost me my entire set of first-day pictures.

A woman excitedly waiting for her son, soldier Travis Donnell, tried to describe what she wanted to say first to her returning son.

“I can’t tell ya - I’ll cry,” Mickey Donnell said.

Somehow, I hold back the tears welling in my eyes. “Dusty air,” I explain. Smooth. But that excuse evaporated once Travis paced through the double doors and was nearly tackled by his mother, grandmother and other family members.

“I’m just so glad to have him home,” Mickey Donnell said, tears streaming down her face.

Again, I kept my face behind the camera.

The Dear American Hero board - Richard Glasgow, George Thole, Gary Kriesel, Wanda Williams and Kim Fuhrmann took spots near the entryway. Many soldiers are clearly surprised by the reception and were thrilled to be on familiar turf.

“It touches your heart,” said soldier Tony Perdue of California after receiving a hug from Fuhrmann. “It gets rough sometimes.”

Our gang was easily spotted - all are dressed in matching “Remembering their Sacrifices” polo shirts. We may have resembled a family bluegrass band, but if so, we’re a damn patriotic one.

As it turns out, we fit in like cards at a poker game. It’s clear that Fuhrmann knew what she was doing when she passed out the threads. Several residents from Euless, Texas, stood next to us with their own matching shirts, and two days later, a local high school will show up with matching duds, as well. The “Huggin’ and Kissin’ Grandmas,” who first welcome all soldiers, also dress in matching outfits. On Valentine’s Day, they’re clad in Hooters-logo shirts with pom-poms in each hand.

We’re also flanked by veterans of all shapes and sizes, men and women who carry purple hearts and battle scars. Many Vietnam vets say thanking the returning soldiers provides them with closure and the thanks they never received.

Whether the troops are men, women, white, black, Asian, the only color that matters is camouflage. Talk about war and politics is also left in the parking lot. Even though one might guess the crowd is decidedly “red-state favored,” one would never know for sure because the topic never comes up.

Military mother Betty Martinez, who has witnessed six deployments of her two children and former son-in-law, visits the airport on the weekends and any days off from work. She speaks slowly, choking back tears and measuring her sentences carefully, when describing her need to thank the soldiers. She started at the airport in 2004.

“I can’t hug my kid, but I can hug somebody’s kid for them,” she said. “It’s therapy. It’s the best way to keep in touch.”

It’s these parents that Bert Brady, an Operation Welcome Home veteran, credits when others mention his ABC News Person of the Week appearance. He bristles at the notion that his volunteerism deserves to be singled out.

“There’s 50 people (at the airport) who could have been on (ABC News),” he says.

While emotions take a cheerful note at arrivals, the departures are decidedly more solemn. Brady tells us to keep our tears hidden from the departing group and not to disturb those sitting with their families.

On Valentine’s Day, the airport’s United Service Organization schedules a celebration with some of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders. Brady, who takes up his regular spot at the end of the line so that he can hand out the Dear American Hero thank you cards, shows us rookies how it’s done.

He has many of the troops laughing with his slow, southern drawl: “We’ve got the Cowboys cheerleaders and pizza down at the end for you - you can have some of the pizza.”

One soldier, Calain Hamilton, poses with one of the cheerleaders and his 18-day-old baby. Hamilton talks about how someone threw a cheeseburger at him earlier in the week, but today, he’s never received so many hugs.

Another soldier talks about returning from overseas and being booed in the Boston airport. Paul Swartz - an Arlington, Texas, resident and Vietnam War veteran - shrugs off any notion that will happen here.

“That’s not going to happen in Dallas, Texas,” he says defiantly.

The next day at Fort Hood, the largest active duty armored post in the nation, the welcome-home tips from Brady, Fuhrmann, Glasgow and the veterans are put to use. We visit with hundreds of families waiting to see their troops who have reached the end of their tour. Before, they were coming home for two weeks, now it’s for good.

Elizabeth Laird, known as “Miss Elizabeth,” hugs each soldier who flies into Fort Hood. Standing 4′9,” you could fit the 76-year-old Laird in your pocket, her hair tied with a ribbon colored in Army yellow. In January, both her daughter and husband passed away, but she still turns out nearly every day.

“I come here because then I don’t have to think about it,” she said, wiping away a single tear. “Whatever I can do to lift (the troops’) spirits.”

The Fort Hood festivities begin with families taking their seats, many with signs reminiscent of a baseball crowd. As more than 200 soldiers pack the Fort Hood gymnasium, they stand at attention, perfectly still.

But my photographer’s perch allows the angle of the each soldiers’ eyes, darting from wall to wall, trying to find the loved ones that they’ve been without for more than a year. One young woman, Nancy Grider, stands with her 10-month-old son, Alex. Husband Jeremiah has been gone for 15 months and last saw Alex when he was only 11 days old.

The family members wait with palpable anticipation, for the moment an officer yells “DISMISSED!”

Once the call comes, the soldiers and families race around like young children on Christmas Day. Hundreds of family members sob joyous tears, and everywhere I look is another picture of a father, mother, son or daughter reunited with their soldier.

I snap hundreds of photos. Yeah, there was a lot of dust in the air at the gymnasium, too.

“You may all go to hell, and I will go to Texas” - Thanking the Troops Part 1

I wrote this for work after spending last week in Texas greeting the troops. It’s much more a magazine-type feature than anything I’ve written before, usually it’s all inverted pyramid. Enjoy.

(Photo: Elliot Mann) Richard Glasgow hugs a solider returning for her two weeks of rest and recuperation.

• Reporter Elliot Mann recently traveled to Dallas along with a group of St. Croix Valley residents to thank members of the armed services arriving in the U.S., as well as those departing to Iraq and Afghanistan. This account is the first in a three-part series detailing his experience.

DALLAS - In Texas, land of 10-gallon hats, jumbo-sized toast and monster trucks billed as pickups, they aren’t one to mince words.

They don’t have time for “Minnesota Nice.” They only have time for straight shootin’, callin’ it like they see it, pure unbridled honesty.

Likewise, Texans aren’t ones to hide their patriotism, typified by larger-than-life flags on nearly every business and “Don’t Mess with Texas” bumper stickers affixed to many a Ford F-150. The American pride isn’t more evident than at the Dallas/Fort Worth Airport, where hundreds of volunteers turn out each day to shake hands, cheer and visit with troops arriving and departing the states.

And for five days last week, four Minnesotans and the Gazette joined the collective, hoping their long “Minn-ee-soo-tahs” didn’t single them out too much among the southern drawls at the airport.

Lakeland resident Richard Glasgow, best known for creating thousands of thank you cards for veterans, led the Minnesotans. The trip was an excuse for his Dear American Hero - a non-profit group formed after Texan Ross Perot donated funds for one million of the thank you cards - to hold a board meeting. But meeting the troops was the real motivation for Glasgow and his fellow board members.

The group is a potpourri of sorts, four retired veterans - a former elevator machinist, a semi-retired salesman of hats and cowboy boots, a legendary state high school football coach and a county politician.

An energetic military wife energizes the faction. She’s best summarized by her caring nature and ability to strike up 20-minute conversations with any passing veteran, as well as her inability to recall the location of her glasses, cell phone or camera.

Later, we’re joined by another veteran, by way of Colorado Springs, Colo.

Rounding out the group is a journalist who has so little experience with the military that he has yet to even watch “Saving Private Ryan.” But the 10-second, cocktail party titles belie the true nature of each personality.

Bert Brady, the former hat and cowboy boot salesman and only Texan in our group, was named an ABC Person of the Week in 2007 for thanking U.S. troops at the airport each day. He also volunteers at the airport’s United Service Organization branch,

Glasgow, the elevator machinist, has donated thousands of dollars to mail his thank you cards around the nation.

Kim Fuhrmann, the enthusiastic wife of an Army helicopter pilot, sacrificed celebrating Valentine’s Day with her husband to shake hands and hug soldiers at the airport. During a trip last year she came across 84 active soldiers and gave them all a thank you card.

Wanda Williams, a late addition to the group, last year saw one of the thank you cards in Colorado and immediately tried to locate their Minnesota roots. She speaks to everyone as though they were high school best friends, always ending conversation with “baby” or “sugar.”

Well-known retired football coach and Stillwater school board member, George Thole, and popular Washington County politician, Gary Kriesel, thrive on their obscurity at the Texas airport. Here, their titles have been checked along with their luggage, and instead of fielding questions about school board budgets or open space initiatives, they are known as Navy vets. Minutes before 6:30 a.m., when the troops walk through the sliding opaque doors marked “International Flight Arrivals,” Kriesel and Thole compare where they were stationed and the subtleties of life on a ship with an elder Navy man from Euless, Texas.

I’m the only one who notices this - the others are busy joking and smiling with those who have lined up along the sliding opaque arrival doors. In a few minutes, the group numbers into triple digits, spotlighted by a few Dallas residents who excitedly wait for their sons, husbands, daughters and friends, tears and smiles unable to hide their excitement. Then, the doors open, a small radio blares out a rendition of “Stars and Stripes Forever” and the crowd emits enthusiastic cheers.

“It’s like a pep rally,” said Brady, who has turned out more than 600 times. “(The troops) have no clue that people are behind those doors.”

The mood is jovial as the soldiers take some of their first steps back on American soil, where they can walk for more than two minutes without having to worry about 140-degree sand melting their boots. Emotions run high on both sides of the hugs and handshakes.

“It’s hard not to tear up when you see some of the guys who light up like a Christmas tree,” Kriesel said.

A Quarter-life Crisis from Minnesota – Volume 1 • From the people who brought you the ‘Drunk By Yourself’ series

Some days are great. Others aren’t. This mix is for the latter.

You’re in your mid-twenties. You graduated college in four years. You’ve made the right decisions in life, yet you watch people less qualified than you find jobs with salaries five times yours. In fact, you don’t even have a “salary.” You make an hourly wage (that has been frozen for much longer than the lakes outside.) Meanwhile, douche bags continue to meet gorgeous women, while you fail to even meet anyone without a ring, two kids, a newsstand of issues, or all of the above.

Or maybe you’ve been toiling away unnoticed at the same thankless job for 15 years. Maybe you’ve realized life isn’t what you planned.

Whether it’s the car that won’t start, the job you didn’t get, or the empty bed you sleep in; the winter is cold as hell, regardless of the temperature. Instead of listening to some asshole tell you “how great you still have it,” put this in your car and zone out.

This record is for you.

I’ve supplied a link, including front and back cover art. (Those ones are hi-resolution, sized perfectly for a CD jewel case. The pics displayed on the site are small, low-resolution versions. Winzip is needed to unzip the folder.)

Enjoy. (password: winter)

Tracklist:
John Mayer - Tracing
Colin Hay - Overkill
Big Head Todd & The Monsters - Bittersweet
Wilco - Either Way
LCD Soundsystem - Someone Great
Anthony Hamilton - Do You Feel Me
Jack Johnson - Posters
The Exchange - Poor Man’s Blanket
Ryan Adams - Two
Pearl Jam - Elderly Woman…
Pearl Jam - Untitled
Beck - Lost Cause
Feist - So Sorry
Cary Brothers - Blue Eyes
Neil Young - Helpless
Hold Steady - First Night
John Legend - It Don’t Have to Change

Column: The game will retire Farve first • Don’t look for the Packers’ legendary quarterback to retire on his own terms

During the Green Bay Packers’ blowout win against the Seattle Seahawks on Saturday, Brett Favre chucked a snowball at one of his linemen; receiving gobs of praise from the Fox Sports commentators about how he enjoys his job more than Ronald McDonald and his painted-on smile enjoy shucking burgers for McDonald’s. Aside from the annoying subplot that Brett Favre enjoys playing football more than anyone else on the planet; another irritating question keeps appearing in the headlines: Will Favre announce his retirement?

Don’t bet on it.

The smart money on when the Packers quarterback will finally hang it up isn’t on this off-season or even after next season. Much like other great athletes, Favre will be the next to hold on too long, holding steadfastly to his policy of refusing to step away from the game on his own terms.

Instead, the game will retire Favre.

Favre, 38, has enjoyed a remarkable season this year, especially taking into account his age and struggles during the past few years. His 4,155 yards this year ranks as the third-best total in his storied career; and if New England’s Tom Brady didn’t take the NFL Record book and spray paint it with every single number the Patriots have accumulated this year, Favre would be an emotional lock for his fourth NFL MVP.

But much like a former NFC North Division quarterback who endured a similar fate to Peyton Manning in 2004 (Daunte Culpepper), Favre has hit his competitive ceiling. He hasn’t established a new level of play that he should be expected to continue, and much like Culpepper, fans next year will watch the skills of the Packers Immortal to fade away.

During this week’s pre-game coverage reviewing Eli Manning’s recent win streak, in spite of carrying himself like a kindergartener who realized he isn’t potty trained, take a look at Favre. If you’re a fan of his, appreciate what he’s done this year, ignoring the hyperbole of the world’s John Madden-types who only talk about how much he enjoys the game.

Remember Favre’s expression during the press conference after the ugly Dec. 23 loss to Chicago? He was out of it, surprised and frustrated. If he continues playing, that Favre will be on showcase much more than the snowball-throwing, freewheeling jokester we watched last Saturday.

Favre isn’t alone in his ability to see the window of his dominance closing. For every Barry Sanders and Jim Brown, there are three Johnny Unitases, Joe Namaths, Jerry Rices, Emmitt Smiths or Dan Marinos. Did we really need to see Joe Namath in a Rams jersey? Unitas wearing Chargers bolts on his shoulders? Rice, maybe the greatest football player ever, struggling to make the Denver Broncos a slot receiver?

But it isn’t only football. Several great athletes didn’t know when to quit. How about NBA greats Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Gary Payton, Hakeem Olajuwon and Patrick Ewing? In baseball, Hall of Fame catcher Carlton Fisk rounded out his storied career as a bullpen catcher. This year Roger Clemens, HGH-aided or not, couldn’t get out of the third inning during his last appearance. He was replaced on the Yankees post-season roster by journeyman reliever Ron Villone.

Dominating at the highest level becomes second nature for these guys; they’ve never endured failure on the field. Whereas the rest of us had our dreams cast into the dirt like a weakly-hit grounder to third base — either getting cut at middle school tryouts or realizing we were a step too slow for upper-echelon high-school competition — the greats never had that kind of feedback. They dunked in high school and smashed home runs in college baseball even though their preferred sport was football.

Those of us unable to achieve that level of success build them up as immortal, and the athletes start to believe it. The game isn’t a job for the greats like it was for retired Viking Robert Smith or former Utah Jazz Center John Amechi. For guys like Favre, it’s their livelihood, and until the game rudely enters them into a new era, they’ll continue lacing it up. Until the game doesn’t slow down for them anymore, until they start throwing more interceptions than touchdowns, until they stop making the plays that before came as second nature, until the game makes the decision for them, they will show up every game.

Only if the Packers emerge victorious in Super Bowl XLII does a logical scenario of Favre stepping away exist: a great player with no other critics to silence and no other goals to accomplish. But Green Bay over the New England Patriots, after beating the New York Giants?

Again, don’t bet on it.

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫

Elliot is pissed off that both the Cowboys and the Colts lost, making the rest of the playoffs completely anti-climactic. He is currently on day two of the “Great American Job Search,” he has a job but he’s trying to find a new one. Reach him here. Currently listening to: “Glad Tidings” - Van Morrison, Moondance.

Quickie: 8-bit art imitates life, Vikings blow playoffs in Tecmo Bowl, Buckner and Game 6 relived in RBI Baseball

Many of you may have seen these before, but in honor of the Minnesota Vikings likely blowing the playoffs this weekend, I figured I should share a video of the last time they choked this hard: 2003.

They started out the season on fire and were extinguished down the stretch, losing to the immortal Arizona Cardinals. Here’s a Tecmo Bowl re-enactment along with the voice of the Vikings Network Paul Allen. (It hurts to watch this again. Even in 8-bit mode.)

But here’s a loss of much bigger proportions: The bottom of the 10th inning in game six of the 1986 World Series. Except it’s in RBI Baseball. This has been around for awhile, but it’s so cool that someone went through this painstaking of an effort to recreate it.

And last, here’s a short dunk from last year’s NBA playoffs, when Baron Davis absolutely shat on the face of Andrei Kirilenko. This time its replayed in NBA 2k7 with the actual TV sportscasters.

If anyone else knows of any other real life to video game reenactments, drop me a line. I love how they throw the TV crews in with it and the videos sync up. Here’s hoping they don’t have the 1999 NFL playoffs anywhere.

Minneapolis’s own American Gangster: Record review of “Pride” by Brinks

Late this year, film critics and music reviewers alike praised the motion picture American Gangster along with Jay-Z’s album of the same name, inspired by the movie. A couple weeks earlier, a Minneapolis hip-hop emcee named Antwoyn Spencer, aka “Twig” and now “Brinks,” was found guilty in federal court of dealing cocaine and laundering money, in connection with Harold’s Chicken Shack in north Minneapolis.

Few seemed to recognize the parallels.

Brinks’ indie-label album, “Pride,” released on the streets and online in October, obviously didn’t attract the same swarm of national media attention as American Gangster. But locally, Brinks’ hip-hop group The StreetKingz garnered a buzz around the Twin Cities after appearing on several mix tapes while performing with RL of Next and JR Writer of the Diplomats. Within the 18 tracks of “Pride” rest pieces of future potential, assuming he’ll will be able to reclaim his focus after serving his time in federal lockup.

At its best, the album bigs up Minnesota, (notably on the string-heavy “Run This Town,” a re-tooled version of a track originally recorded as a posse cut with The StreetKingz); or during the braggadocios, ode to your swagger, “Cocky.” The sinister hook of the beat on “Under Pressure” brilliantly accompanies the introspective, tales of the street lyrics.

For an inde-artist, it’s rare to see such a polished finished product like “Pride,” don’t expect to hear any tape-hissing or a CD-R with Sharpie ink informing you of the artist’s name. Which again, makes sense after one reads the Star Tribune articles.

But at its worst, “Pride” falls into the typical trend of sub par hip-hop records that say too much of nothing and end up yapping about cars, drugs, money and women; ironically the things that led to Brinks’ apparent downfall. See: “Drinks on Brinks.”

Now, I’m not here to condemn or praise the man for his actions – the federal jury has already done that effectively enough. But “Pride” contains flashes of unbridled promise during its best moments.

For a hip-hop emcee, the story, the come up, is the most integral aspect to launching a career. Look at the top of the charts these days: 50 Cent (shot nine times), Kanye West (survived a near-fatal car crash), The Game (shot at his home, had a well-publicized beef with 50 Cent), Akon (locked up after stealing cars), Jay-Z (apparently moved weight before turning to music), Lil Wayne (shot himself with a Glock at 12. Wikipedia wrongly lists it as a .44 Magnum, but this Rolling Stone article shows the correct information. He didn’t know the chamber of the Glock also held a bullet.)

But see the point? To break into the game, a story helps.

Behind nearly every great artist is a story of tremendous heartbreak, misfortune or disillusion. Some think suffering is how they are able to record such great music, paint such vibrant pictures, or write such engrossing novels.

Moments like the end of “Pray for Me:” “I don’t want no problems, I just want to hustle / But it seems like my swag is a magnet for a trouble / Forgive me Lord for I have sinned / But the judgment is in and the bullet’s in the wind” are exactly the type of personal, self-questioning work that could get Brinks noticed someday.

Now he just needs to harness the anguish currently in his life, scribe it on his notepad and get it across on wax: the rise, the downfall, and living behind bars with his daughter on the outside. Star Trib and “bid” rhyme way too easily to not be a hook of a future track. Jay-Z might have received all the accolades for his “tales from the street,” but mostly it was a lot of millionaire posturing and check signing.

Where were the actual storytelling cuts about when the cops broke down his entire empire? What number is the song with Jigga’s thoughts in the courtroom when he was facing years in prison because of his drug trafficking? Oh, that’s right. That story isn’t his.

But it does belong to Brinks. Here’s hoping we hear it on his next release.

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫

Suggested listening from “Pride”: “Run This Town,” “Cocky,” “Pride,” “Under Pressure.” Further listening: StreetKingz – “Whips So Clean,” “I Shine” and “Game Time,” featuring the DipSet’s JR Writer and the lyric: “We like the ’94 Timberwolves, we ballin’ with a JR Writer (Rider).” To listen to Brinks and the StreetKingz, or to read Star Tribune articles about the court case and jailhouse letters from Brinks, visit: http://www.myspace.com/brinks612 and http://www.myspace.com/thestreetkingz.

Original version of “Run This Town”:

Don’t blame Atmosphere for the weather

As part of their feverish quest to become my favorite hip-hop group, Atmosphere has recently offered a free CD for the holidays called “Strictly Leakage.” The record is just the latest in a string of events that are leading me to the conclusion that Ant Davis and Slug are possessed to impress me with their knowledge of Richfield while making dope records, without actually officially releasing a full CD (three of their releases in the past year have been EPs and “Leakage” is an Internet-only deal).

Earlier this year on “Sad Clown Bad Summer No. 9,” Slug referenced Richfield in the first bar of “Number One.” Then he named a song after the street I live off of, “66th Street,” on No. 11.

While that stuff is great and heavily appreciated, the references wouldn’t matter if the tracks were weak like clock radio speakers © Gza. But they aren’t – Atmosphere continues putting together solid albums and the music stands up on its own, even if your ears don’t perk up when Slug raps about calling the Richfield Police after a robbery occurred during his usual shift at a local gas station.

Slug’s voice used to annoy me, his flow seemed intentionally slow at times and other verses it seemed he forced multi-syllabic words just to be the “lyrical, spiritual, miracle.” He addressed this in an interview a couple years ago and said he was focusing more on writing good music — and now I’m paraphrasing — than trying to make the next Hip-Hop Quotable in The Source. Well, it’s working.

Ant’s production has also evolved into a much more diverse sound. The early tracks, which were still tight, rarely deviated from the boom-bap of underground rap. Now he’s got upbeat soul samples and piano-based grooves mixed among the dank basement grooves that the backpackers fawn over.

Then again, maybe it’s just nice to see a hip-hop group talented musicians working hard on music, rather than a clothing line, record label or brand of alcohol. Here’s another link to “Strictly Leakage”: http://www.rhymesayers.com/atmosphere/

Enjoy.

Quickie: Rasho does his best Shawn Bradley imitation, in a related story Kevin Durant can dunk

Man he got yoked on! That’s disgusting. I think I need to make a top facial post with help from Youtube.

What are some of your favorite dunks over people? Post below if any come to mind…