What an interesting world we live in. Leah McSweeney, unmatched millionaire, has received a lawsuit from James Jebbia and Supreme suing her brand Married to the Mob for 10 million dollars. This is on the heels of MOB re-rleasing one of their first designs, bearing a boxed logo that says Supreme Bitch.

McSweeney made a blog post reminding the world that she has been using that very logo since 2004 which she sold at Union while Jebbia was the owner. Unfortunately, she attempted to trademark her logo (which makes sense, considering how easy is it to reproduce) and that set off some alarms at Supreme who figured that if MOB is going to trademark their logos, and use it on things other than t-shirts, that means somehow money is going to get straight out of Supreme’s pockets, into MOBs. So it was cute and all when she was still hustling, but bitch better not make money off of it.

As a reminder, just in case, MOB is a women’s label. Supreme does not make women’s clothes. But I guess the argument is that customers might think that Supreme Bitch might be confused as a Supreme women’s line (even though the tags will bear the brand Married to the Mob). Even funnier! The contentious logo is, almost famously, lifted right out of Barbara Kruger‘s visual art, who, if she was as money-hungry as Preme, could have sued them years ago (also, she happens to be a feminist, but that is also lost on Jebbia). OMG UPDATE as this was waiting to be published: Barbara Kruger has responded.

BOTH BRANDS have made their reputation out of repurposing pop-art. Now if they actually go to court with it (MOB is countering the claim) what are the chances of a judge being actually siding for Supreme? Is adding the word “bitch” sufficient to make the trademark different? One would think… Supreme is just an adjective, and a Supreme Bitch is not a Supreme. Writing things in white against a red background is not much of a crime. I guess this is in the hands of the courts, but MOB has Norman Siegel on the case, and I doubt he’s going to lose this one.

But to the point here: 10 MILLION DOLLARS? How do you estimate that prejudice? That’s a shitload of mugs and beanies that MOB hasn’t even sold yet. How are you going to come off as a skateboard (or, as they love to put it, “punk”) brand if they can’t take a fucking joke? From a girl? The only alternate universe where suing people is considered cool is corporate America, and even there they’re not huge fans of it. More importantly, how are they going to come off when McSweeney wins the case? The boxed logo is not trademarked, so Preme will have to make a really strong case to prove infringement.

I have an element of answer: NO ONE GIVES A SHIT. Because no one cares where Supreme’s box logo came from in the first place. Because no one who buys Supreme would legitimately confuse Supreme and Married to the Mob. Because No one who buys Married to the Mob would legitimately think they were buying a Supreme product. Because this lawsuit, like most lawsuits, is going to get a quiet settlement before both parties lose all their capital in a money pit that neither can afford. Who knew Supreme were such drama queens?

[Editor's Note: These opinions above are not the opinions of Мишка as a whole, they are solely the opinons of our writer, Gnou. This case, has gotten a lot of coverage beyond the usual streetwear media, because of the provocative dollar amount tied to it, but it really touches on concepts that are central to the base idea of streetwear. Hence, Gnou's coverage of it. Copyright—with regard to transformative art—is an area still being argued, and obviously as a streetwear company this is an area we all take interest in. Shoutout to the recent Richard Prince decision and Jeff Koons v. Art Rogers. - raythedestroyer]

Dear Great Turkey/Generic Good-Natured Pilgrim/Modern Envisioning Of Some Standard Native American/Post-Thanksgiving Dinner Saint Nicholas, Slightly Larger Than Usual, Which, Is Really Not The Best Idea For You Because Of The Whole Christmas-Thing That’s Coming Up (But I Guess You Manage To Get It Done Each Year So It Isn’t Really My Place To Judge You On This One);

Dear Whomever It Is That Should Be Addressed As The Mascot-Come-Overseer Of Thanksgiving,

I recently became aware of the phenomenon of the Thanksgiving Letter. Not aware as in I know what it is, because I don’t, I didn’t ask, but aware as in I do know that it’s a thing. There’s something called the Thanksgiving Letter and people write them. I’m going to guess that it’s a letter where you explain all of the things that you’re thankful for, a sort of prequel to the letter where you explain all of the things that you would like to be thankful for in the future. That letter being the Christmas List. I certainly have a lot to be thankful for this year, so let me go over the highlights:

Thank you, Great Turkey, for letting all my friends find paying jobs this year. It means a lot to me. I’ve been able to get a bunch of free stuff thanks to them.

Thank you for the whole Obama winning thing. If that had gone the other way my mother would have never let up about it.

Similarly, thank you for those people that preemptively moved to Canada. We didn’t need them anyway.

Thank you for t-shirts with movie quotes on them. Like one that says, “I get older and they stay the same age” with a picture of Mathew McConaughey’s face. Those shirts save me a lot of time in determining whom to despise immediately upon seeing.

Thank you for classic books like The Hobbit, The Great Gatsby, and Pride and Prejudice. They’re going to make for some excellent movies next year.

In that same vein, thank you for movies. They’ve taught me all there is to know about romantic relationships. Of that, I’m sure.

Thank you for those tan Burberry plaid button up shirts. That’s definitely a good look for nobody.

Thank you for the person who always wants to talk about Jay-Z and Beyonce’s baby. You know exactly how to immediately lose my attention.

Thank you also for the person that just thought “How do you not like talking about Blue Ivy!?”

Thank you for people that trust you to keep their secrets. Those things always make for great conversation starters at parties.

Thank you for eyebrows. They probably just look normal because we have them and we’re used to them, but without those things I think people would look pretty terrible.

Thank you for those specialty toothpastes with flavors like apricot, whole grain, and cinnamon. Because sometimes when you swallow your toothpaste instead of spitting it out, you want to taste something other than mint.

Thank you for those prisons that are also museums. I think they’re called zoos.

Thanks for Facebook statuses, without which, I would never be alerted to crucial information. I mean, I might have never found out that Penelope Cruz actually has a less famous but kind of hotter sister named Monica Cruz! That was a close one!

Thanks for people who think it’s totally a great idea to respond to comedians on Twitter. That’s where the real comedy happens.

Thank you also for those people that feel the need to tell you jokes that they heard a standup comedian tell. It’s always a treat to hear those jokes told with different timing and delivery.

Pizza bagels. Thanks for those, genuinely.

Thank you for all the shoes that aren’t New Balances.

Thank you for street construction, multi-car accidents, and the occasional gas explosion. Those deaf-defying noises make it absolutely impossible to hear the person telling me about their day, and that’s something I never want to hear about.

Thank you for the ability to hyperlink. Check that out.

Thank you for every day that there isn’t a parade.

Thank you to all the people in New York trying to be different, but going about it in the exact same way as everyone else. The uniformity makes it easier on the eyes.

Thank you for everyone who is able to restrain themselves from mentioning that Thanksgiving is a holiday celebrating genocide, and will allow me to just eat and make my jokes.

And finally, thank you for all the great stuff that I own: the clothes, the movies, the Mario Batali cookbooks, the first and second LEGO Death Star sets, George Clooney’s limited edition 2007 cologne “Gentle.Man”. All that stuff is great.

And thankfully today I’ll be able to go buy a ton more of that stuff for super cheap! Because this stuff that I have now just isn’t enough.

The Most Sincere,

Elbows.

Considering the sensitive nature of the topic, I’d like to say that the views expressed here are my own, and do not represent those of the company as a whole.

No doubt many of you have already seen the video embedded above. Purported to be a trailer for a full length film entitled The Innocence of Muslims, the 14 minute video is one of the funniest and most preposterous things I’ve seen on the internet in quite some time. At least, it would be if it hadn’t allegedly been touted by murderers as the impetus for the killing of four American citizens in Libya following its translation to Arabic and dissertation through Libyan news networks. Whereas in the past the deplorable and inexcusable retribution of Islamic extremists for “artistic” work has come down on artists who were willing to stand by their legitimate beliefs (think about the murder of activist director Theo van Gogh in 2004 by an extremist who was incensed by van Gogh’s transcription of Koran verses onto a woman’s naked body), this terrible occurrence is made all the worse for two reasons: the punishment was dealt to innocent Americans who had absolutely nothing to do with the film, and also the film – as far as I can see – is a troll. It’s not real, and it was never meant to be.

Over the past decade we’ve been repeatedly exposed the the dangers of so-called trolling, which has resulted in death (usually by suicide) more times than you would think. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen it play out on such a global scale as this. While his motives and indeed his identity remain anonymous (a favorite, and essentially necessary trait of the best trolls), the director “Sam Bacile” – a name quickly and obviously revealed as false – is a devious manipulator, and a prankster who’s imbecilic work has unfortunately resulted in grave consequences. We’ve all seen a lot of (or at least a few) anti-Muslim propaganda videos, and propaganda videos in general on the internet. Oftentimes they are ridiculous, sometimes insane, and always full of lies or the manipulation of fact. They get passed around for that reason. But I put forth that never have I seen one that’s this stupid, this unstructured, and – to be honest – completely lacking in bite. For all their problems, they usually manage to be convincing within their own incredibly tiny world. Meaning, they’re perfect for further incensing people who already believe in them, or are gullible. This does not even vaguely feel like that.

The director claims that 5 million dollars was spent on a feature length version of this film, but I highly doubt that has ever, or will ever exist. I also highly doubt that he had the “100 Jewish Donors” that he claims, or any at all, for one very important reason: this movie is not what it claims to be. If you watch carefully (well, not even that carefully) it’s clear that none of the actors or people involved are aware that they’re making a video about Mohammed. Perhaps only the editor – and the one person who supplies all the over-dubbing, presumably Mr. “Bacile” – does. At no point is any reference to Mohammed or Islam made by an actual actor. In each instance their voice is dubbed, and their lines are visibly altered from what their lips are saying. Nor do any of the “vaguely Arab” facts or names that the actors spout have anything to do with Islam or the Koran. The people were participating in a dumb video, yes, and one that involved unfortunate “brown-face” makeup. But I really think they were not aware they were making an anti-Islam/Mohammed screed. Part of the reason I believe this is that I happen to, very vaguely, know someone who is in this video.

Believe me, I was as shocked as anyone this morning as I watched it, wondering to myself “who would ever agree to be in this?”, when I saw the face of someone I’m familiar with from my film school days. He was, and I suppose is, a small-time actor who would very kindly work in students’ movies for free. I don’t know him particularly well, but enough to know that he’s an extremely personable, kind, almost granola-y guy who – while he’s dabbled in a few “offensive” things like Troma pictures – I very highly doubt would participate in a feature length mocking of an entire religion. So with these things in mind – the deception of the cast and crew, the fake name, the patently false boasts about origin and funding, the inherent ridiculousness of the video – I reach the question: who exactly is this trolling? Unfortunately, I’m starting to suspect that this video may come from someone who was actually attempting to make fun of these over the top conspiracy/anti-Muslim videos, not actually make one with more grave consequences than any before.

Someone who didn’t have the vitriol or the balls to tell his collaborators what they were actually working on, probably because he didn’t believe in it him or herself (though this video screams “idiot male”). Would I be stunned if this was devised as a Tim & Eric aping avant garde satire designed to attract the attention of people like Florida pastor Terry Jones (oh you remember, the fucktard who burns Korans), who – how shocking – has been running his idiot mouth in support of it all day? So we could all laugh at him for touting such swill? Maybe not.

The only kind of true, real, immense asshole who would really have the beliefs to make something like this legitimately would love to stand by it. So isn’t it a little suspect that “Sam Bacile” is an absolute ghost? What other reason could he have for trying to distance himself from it so intensely – after bragging in the past – other than that horrible, irrevocable realization that the joke had gone too far. I’m not Sherlock Holmes. I’m not even Encyclopedia Brown. I could be wrong. In some ways I hope I am, though I guess it doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, the issue is that 4 innocent Americans were killed by ignorant people (or person) who have a fundamentally broken rubric for reacting to art or discourse or even ridicule.

But the one way to prevent it from happening again is to carefully examine the things that lead to it, no matter how stupid they may appear. This is not about shifting blame or depriving free speech. It’s about being conscientious of actions in the face of extreme circumstances.  Especially in this case, considering the way I believe the person behind the video may have manipulated others into supporting them. I would never, ever tell someone not to walk, unless they were standing in the middle of a minefield. I’m sure a lot of hate is being spouted by liberals (in who’s ranks I count myself) towards the apparent hyper-conservative bigots behind this. Watch out though. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of it bounced back.

Lady Hauk here, the newest member of the Мишка blog squad. I’m from Los Angeles but go to school in San Francisco. I love being a California girl and something people always ask me is if I like LA or SF better. It is always a hard question to answer, but no matter what I say the conversation usually ends in that person saying how much one city is better than the other. Yea everyone is entitled to their opinion, but why do we both gotta hate on each other? Can’t we Californians just get along?

I came to this realization while waiting for the BART, the SF subway. A guy approached me and we started to talk. He asked me where I was from. With pride and a big smile on my face, I tell him Los Angeles. Then he started to rant, saying how Los Angeles is such an ugly place and he would rather die than live there. Uhhh Really? I don’t care if you’re a fine Rico Sauve you do not disrespect where someone is from, especially if it’s the same state!

California is known for its beauty, weather, and weed. Can’t we all stop bashing each other and just get along? No matter what city I end up living in, I always come across that one person who has got something to say about LA/SF. Los Angeles people are constantly ranting about how green and eco aware SF is (which is lame btw) and the bay’s famous word hella. San Francisco people are complaining about how dirty Los Angeles is and how everyone who lives there is so materialistic.

Personally, I think this beef should just come to an end. Los Angeles may be dirty as fuck but you learn to admire the smog. Why do you think our sunsets/sunrise are so beautiful? Yeah, there are a lot of superficial people but there are also some people who have the best stories I’ve ever heard. San Francisco may be eco-friendly and aware but that’s what NorCal is all about. The word hella may be annoying, but I even catch myself saying the word from time to time. Each place has its pros and cons but that’s what makes it California.

I think the main reason why I can’t decide which city I like better is because they are so similar and yet so different. I feel like when people are constantly comparing the two it’s like they’re running in circles. Most of the people hating on the opposing city usually have never been there or have only been there for a little amount of time. It isn’t until you actually live there that you realized how much each city has to offer and how amazing California is.

The Expendables 2 comes out this weekend and while it looks like fun, I’m going to wait for the DVD. It pains me to say this because I honestly love Sylvester Stallone. With Rocky Balboa in 2006 and Rambo in 2008, he revisited the two roles that made him one biggest stars in the world and ended a shaky lull in his career. These two movies led to The Expendables and a pseudo-ironic revival of the big-budget beefy action genre. Mr. Stallone is a busy man once again. But to me, he’s always been at his best when his biceps mirror his heart and his fierce defiance against the pricks in power.

For all their bulky brawn, Stallone’s greatest characters have always been essentially like big children: Rocky, John Rambo, Freddy Heflin, Cosmo Carboni, etc. That’s not to say movies like Cobra and Nighthawks don’t hold a special place in my soul, but I like my hunks vulnerable. Stallone always makes these types of roles feel the most authentic and the most moving. The “what about my prime” speech in Rocky still destroys me. It’s hard for me to watch his “not my war” breakdown at the end of First Blood. Not because of the delivery, but because of his shocking realness. He’s like the guy Springsteen is always singing about. That genuine gruff sensitivity can be traced through Stallone’s background. He wasn’t discovered in a gym or working as a model when the spotlight was thrust upon him. He fought for that shit.

When Stallone was born, complications caused the doctors to yank him out with two pairs of forceps. This action severed many nerves – leading to permanent paralysis on the lower left side of his face. This led to his signature slur, which couldn’t have been easy to cope with when he was a kid. Stallone was raised in Hell’s Kitchen by parents struggling to keep their marriage together. His father was a beautician and his mother was an astrologer/women’s wrestling promoter. During their tumultuous marriage, Stallone was kicked around to different foster homes until his mother took him along to Philly. There she opened a women’s gym called Barbella’s.

After attending military school and the University of Miami, Stallone moved back to NYC where he lived the hardships of a struggling actor most contemporary pretty-boy action stars will never have to endure. He hocked furniture and jewelry. He slept in his station wagon and in the Port Authority for weeks. Desperate for money, Stallone starred in a low-budget softcore porno, The Party at Kitty and Stud‘s, for which he was paid $200. He managed to grab small roles here and there, and eventually he sold the script for Rocky. At the time he had $106 to his name and was trying to sell his dog since he couldn’t afford to feed him. Even with money waving in his face, he refused to sell Rocky unless he could star in it.

Following the huge success of Rocky, Stallone starred in several bombs, including Paradise Alley, another script he had written.Then Rambo came along and arguably saved his career. The script had been kicking around for awhile and a laundry list of leading badasses turned it down – including De Niro and Kris Kristofferson. Stallone did too at first. Then he decided to take a different approach to the character of John Rambo. He saw him as a monster created by Uncle Sam instead of Frankentstein. A childlike drifter able to suppress the horrors of war burned into his psyche until those shit-kicker cops in Hope, Washington step up.

Remarkably Stallone manages to play Rambo with that same kind of innocence that made Rocky so memorable. This time it’s like a child who survived hell. Rambo’s an ex-Green Beret who can tear through a police station with his bare hands, but Stallone brings a breath of tenderness to the role. When we first meet him he’s visibly nervous and shy as he approaches the widow of one of his war buddies. This same wide-eyed guilelessness can be seen in his Freddy Heflin character in Cop Land and vague traces of it can be found in his role as Frank Leone in Lock Up.

After Rocky, Cop Land (1997 dir: James Mangold) is my favorite Stallone film, nearly rivaling Rocky. It’s a sweeping tale of corrupt cops populated with a huge cast of interesting characters with an ambitious script as dense as Dickens. In the behind the scenes featurette on the Lionsgate 3-disc Stallone set, many of the actors, including Stallone, explain that they agreed to work on “scale,” which is basically minimum wage for SAG members. They all wanted to be in the film, regardless of the paycheck. Despite his huge frame (Stallone gained 40 lbs for the role) this one is all heart. He plays Freddy Helfin, a half-deaf sheriff in Garrison, NJ, a town oozing with corrupt cops. Freddy’s handicap prevents him from becoming a “real cop” and the residents of Garrison have no problem constantly bullying him about it.

In Lock Up (1989 dir: John Flynn), Stallone’s role is flipped. This time he’s an inmate – albeit model inmate, Frank Leone. Frank’s finishing up his time for a bogus assault charge in a minimum security prison. One night he’s taken from his cell and transferred to the shittiest prison in the U.S., where evil warden Donald Sutherland dominates with a scowl. He’s got an age old beef with Frank, who escaped from a Sutherland-run prison before and made him look like a huge tool in the press. Frank is put through the wringer by guards, inmates, and Sutherland. This film’s more about Stallone’s bulk than heart, but the ending still satisfies and there are hints of that artless innocence in Frank Leone.

Lionsgate’s 3-disc Stallone set contains the discs from the regular DVD editions of First Blood, Cop Land, and Lock Up. The latter has the weakest special features: a brief featurette containing short interviews with cast and crew and some production notes (remember when you had to read special features?). Cop Land has a great commentary track by Mangold, Stallone, and Robert Patrick, along with a brief featurette.

First Blood has the silliest special feature ever concocted by man: “Survival Mode.” This feature allegedly “enhances” your viewing experience. It’s a bunch of poorly designed “military” interruptions like zooming maps and laser sight targeting nonsense. It’s frustrating more than enriching. The commentary by Stallone is fantastic though. The amount of injuries he sustained during filming is ridiculous.

There’s always one blemish in these bare-bones sets, and Lock Up is the whitehead here. If you don’t own the First Blood or Cop Land DVDs though, this is an affordable way to go. He might be past being able to pull of the sensitive hulks he used to, but at least there are sets like to revisit them.

Erstwhile Bloglin mainstay Justin Jewett has been on his grind. His grizzly, as it were. Not here. That dude Hateball tho. HVTXBVLL, as he is probably now known in the biz. Somewhere. You may remember his zetaphysical forays into toyworld, showing you around kaiju blacklands; and by the looks of the picture above, it should be clear by now that he has physically far outmetaed these forays.

Perhaps most innocuously, there was this little interview for Tumbling sensation SoHowWasYourDay, where Hateball showed us his sensitive side. A portrait of the artist at his dreamiest yet busiest.

Seems like a tough day being a dork during the Dorklympics. I wouldn’t know. What he doesn’t tell you is that he did all this wearing flip-flops. I don’t even understand how that’s possible. What he does tell you though, is the name of his latest creature: Shub Zeroth. A Brian Ewing co-production. And I know where to start telling you just what it is, with the words of the man himself:

I conjured him up out of a sweaty pile of Lovecraft, [Hunter S Thompson], and Vonnegut…what a pedigree, right? It’s a healthy dose of Brian’s amazing art paired with my dryrot sarcasm. The toy has been sculpted by Miyazawa-san, owner/operator of a tiny toy company in Japan called Shikaruna Koubo.

Lookit below and make sure you clickit to see all angles of what is JUST THE FREAKING PROTO, OGODICANTWAITTOSEEITINCOLOR.

The general release is slated for fall. Til then, you can sign up for a mailing list to stay posted (it takes a few seconds) and then check out a montage of nearly everything else he has done during Comicon (it takes 2 minutes). That’s a bout the distance between now and the Fall, 3 minutes.

But wait! Would you like to know more? I had the pleasure to shoot some questions at Hateball for a side pocket of soul-searching that ultimately lead us to the middle of a soft vinyl wasteland, kicking model carcasses around and generally just jibber-jabbering. The following is a short extract of something that may or may not end in full on this here Bloglin eventually.

I pondered: With all the cultural background involved in these toys (whether manga or mythological or whatever) don’t think that the kaiju trend might be cultural or (gasp) generational? The animals will cross-over, sure… The Velocitron tentacled monsters, probably… But the Tokojis and Hedorahs? Where does the spur of the moment start, and where does the meta culture end?

It’s certainly one of the core shits, innit? How many toys ABOUT something can there really be? Before you know it, large corporations will start cultivating movie franchises that are designed solely to spawn an ever-expanding line of merchandise. How funny would it be—how absolutely ironic and blatantly HATEFUL toward us, the consumers—if there was somehow a critically acclaimed and widely praised movie that was actually ABOUT toys that then went on to permeate huge heaping swaths of the worldwide entertainment fingerprint and came heavy with pale imitations of the very ‘actors’ that starred in it.

Oh wait.

I think that toys will always tend to be about something. Something that already exists. Or existed. The ‘licensed’ items will always (probably, right?) outshine the stuff that’s created ‘from scratch’. I certainly think that what you and I call ‘kaiju’ (as in reference to ‘monsters that appear in movies and the toys that are made to represent them’) might not be generational in the way you mean. But I don’t have any better theories.

Oh, the fun to be had. Here’s my thoughts: great ideas are few and far between, and we’re not that great to begin with, so we needed our parents and grand-parents to try and err, and reduce the amount of erring we need to do. So we rely on the past, because honestly, a lot of great ideas have already been had, and a lot of great people have been here before us, and it would be a shame to not pay attention. But there’s an (at least) equal amount of inspiration in the world around us that these people of the past did not have the chance to exploit, and it’s our job to pull those strings together to create little bundles of joy for our generation to enjoy, and for the next generations to have documents of how shitty we are, and how there’s always room for improvement. Give them something to think about. Give us something to no longer think about, because it’s right there. We made it. #Meta. #Crypt. Holler.

So the image above has been circulating on the internets, reposted far and wide like the #BIGDEAL that it is. It is accusing David Guetta, Deadmau5, Avicii, Steve Aoki and Excision of – literally – buying fans on Facebook. Ostensibly, to… sell more records? Wait. What is the logic here? What does an artist with 6 Million facebook fans gain, besides 6 Million facebook fans? These pages do not get remunerated.

This is not Youtube, where page views can get you money. It’s just a fan count. And we all knew that these DJs are popular. Buying fans that don’t listen to your music serves no purpose on Facebook. #Strangely, their most popular demographic is also between 18 and 24 years of age. What a shocker. “For what it’s worth” never punctuated a sentence better. EDITED FOR CLARIFICATION: I have no insider’s knowledge about the situation. They may be buying fans for all I care, but that does not concern me. My point here is that if mischief is being done, this is no proof of it. It is however showing pretty strong bias against non-US markets.

See, the “Most popular city” of your Insights page points to where most people that are interacting with the page come from. It is not an indication of where the “fans” come from. David Guetta has 32 Million “fans” worldwide (and yes, that is worth a wtf) but only 300k have even mentioned him in a Facebook post. The above statistic was generated from the number of people worldwide, and a majority of them (most likely 10 or 12%) are located in DF Mexico who have EVER posted a video or mentioned Guetta in a post. Including such meaningfully relevant posts as ****OMG love THIS SONG1!!!2!!*** And “David Guetta Sucks!”

Mixmag and their exemplary top-notch journalism have pointed out that “at the time of writing, none have events listed in the area.” Obviously, this ignores the fact that there is such a thing as the past, when people might have been to their previous shows or even just talked about these artists. Incidentally, unless there is a company based out of Mexico that caters especially to DJs, it would seem that these six DJs have contracted that same company to buy their fans. Oh, and U2. And Michael Jackson. So did The Beatles. Apparently, it seems to be a choice destination for outsourcing fandom, as – I’m sure – fake fans from Mexico come cheaper than fake fans in the US.

The only way this assumption of these DJs buying fans works is if: 1) you don’t like any of them 2) you think Mexico is a poor ass country where kids have nothing better to do than sell their expert clicking services for a few cents, when they could be outside getting down to some Avicii (do they even have radios?). Mixmag support the argument with the fact that less than 30% of Mexicans have internet access. But the numbers shown here refer to the Distrito Federal of Mexico, i.e. a part of Mexico City, the third largest city in the goddamn world, home to about 9 million Mexicans. Not exactly peasants. And speaking of peasants, this is the same country were Marcos was circulating information about his army through his website, as early as 1996.

So of course, nobody likes most of these DJs. They’re obnoxious gimmicky (barely) overgrown teenagers that are making more money than any of us for mashing a couple of buttons and turning a couple of knobs per night. But nevertheless, think about what you are saying about yourself when you repost a meme, however much you agree with its basic argument. Deep down you might be kind of a racist.

There seems to be a lot of confusion about the term based. Lil B has spoken about it in both song and interview, but true to his nature, oftentimes his right brain takes control, leaving one in a state of even more confusion. One thing can be said though, being “based” has absolutely nothing to do with wearing tiny pants and using words like “suck, “dick” and “bitch” a lot.

As a modern day philosopher, Brandon McCartney shares a lot more with motivational speakers like Norman Vincent Peele, author of The Power of Positive Thinking, a self help book that defined the era of post-Reagan business, before Swimming with the Sharks became the rule of thumb. Being ‘based’ is derived from just what you think it means; back in The Pack days, Lil B and company used it as a term for wild, or “crazy like a crackhead.”

But somewhere down the road it has mutated into much much more. Now when Lil B speaks about being based, he is espousing a lifestyle of positivity and tolerance. His hope is to create an environment where people are free to be exactly what they want to be.

One look at video of his recent speaking engagement and it becomes clear that many of his fans might not even get it. Amidst the college kids and hipsters there seemed to be more than a few people who perceive being “based” as looking and acting just like Lil B. It really isn’t their fault though, as McCartney spent a decent chuck of his 90 minutes speaking about the influence of media and why he chooses to avoid it.

We have been conditioned to think this way. It is difficult not to listen to Lil B, or any other person in the public spotlight and try to figure out just what it is they are trying to sell. This is what makes Lil B so special in today’s consumer culture. Everyone has secretly been waiting for him to reveal his sinister intentions.  Those of us who are fans have waited with our wallets half open, just waiting to shell out some money. We do this because that’s the way it has always been.

We are used to paying for our brand, having to make an investment in order to forge an identity.  Well its been three years now, and Brandon McCartney has stayed true to his ideals, and has no plans of marketing Based Culture in the near or any foreseeable future.

Based is first and foremost about having an open mind, and its detractors always tend to display the polar opposite emotions. Any comments page on any article about Lil B is bound to be filled with the most bilious and negative displays of homophobia, racism and an almost conservative fear of our changing culture. To quote Lil B: “Nobody asked to be born… you didn’t ask to be you bro!”

In a recent argument with an East Coast rap centered Lil B hater, this writer brought up the fact that baggy jeans and XXXL shirts are a thing of the past. In fact, one look at pictures of old school rappers, and their manner of dress is closer to this new generation than it ever was to any of the crass commercial styling of the “Golden Era” where being a walking Billboard was favored over personal expression.

It is funny, because they same people arguing about how “gay” Lil B dresses are the same folks who spend the rest of their time damning materialism in music and media. Brandon McCartney makes a point of wearing the same shoes every day, he brags about buying his clothes at Ross and the Goodwill. It is this philosophy, and the fact that he seems eager to be a role model that makes him so important.

This freedom of expression has led to one of the greatest renaissances in rap. With the aid of affordable (and often free) digital audio workstations that can produce the same beats one hears on the radio, the playing field has been entirely leveled. The Based phenomena has shown people that you don’t have to chart on Soundscan to make a buzz anymore.

Perseverance and creativity seem far more important in today’s hip hop climate. Two of the most unlikely rappers are shining examples of what is is to be based. Joeyy Green and Kitty Pryde are both young, but live completely different lives on opposite sides of the East Coast. Still, almost unbeknownst to them, they are bonded by this underlying atmosphere of freedom that has been created by Basedworld.

Joeyy Green might be Lil B’s great fan. On the outside he is an awkward high school student from suburban Rhode Island, but once he gets on the mic he is a bonafide lyrical monster. I first came across Green when I heard his freestyle over the Clams Casino beat Lil B used for “Realist Alive”  I was immediately blown away by how distinctly this young man carried on the tradition of heartfelt based poetry.

Hit the jump for the rest!

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Welcome back to the super secret underground vault, where we’re about to take another trip down un-memory lane and uncover the mysteries of Мишка projects that, tragically, never made it into this big beautiful messed up world of ours. In our first installment, we gave you the skinny on a triple stack of sneaks we collaborated on with Reebok.

At least those, however, we’re still bummed about never going all the way with. These Skullcandys on the other hand…Whoa boy, not a good experience. Seeing how much music stuff our brand is involved in, it made perfect sense to produce a Мишка-ed up pair of headphones. This idea first germinated sometime in 2010, and at the time Skullcandy headphones were selling like wildfire (maybe they still are? I’m not exactly plugged into the pulse of the headphone game…).

Skullcandy was a big company that was only growing, so we knew the’d have no problems cooking up some Мишка specific headphones. Plus, the spherical build of their ‘phones immediately jumped out at us.

When we see a sphere ’round here, there’s a little pavlovian tickle: we can put a Keep Watch Eyeball on that! Much like the pumps on the ‘boks, what better way to show it’s a Мишка item than big bloody eyeballs? And stuck to the side of your head like some sort of streetwear Guillermo Del Toro creation? Sign me up, amirite?

Skullcandy was on board too, and some time later we got the models you see above delivered to us. Keep Watch ear casing, Мишка embroidery on the headband, and magenta speaker liner. They looked great! But. There’s always a but. The first thing we noticed was that the sound quality wasn’t exactly stellar, but at the price point it actually was nowhere near as bad as it could have been. Listen, I’m never going to say they were studio quality headphones but they weren’t gonna be sold like that.

As far as casual use – subway rides, sitting at home on your laptop, etc. – there were no problems there. The bigger problem was the Skullcandy people effectively dropping off the face of the earth. This started to get us a mite worried, as we had already started promoting these bad boys. But our communiques went unanswered.

What could have happened? Skullcandy had been so excited that they were planning on selling the headphones themselves as well, out of their online store. They even told us – after we pitched having the outside be a fully molded Keep Watch – that we could implement that on the second edition because they envisioned a long partnership.What could have changed? We still don’t really have the answer to that question (at least I don’t think so) but eventually they got back to us and said they just didn’t think they would sell enough of them. Which we knew was utter BS. It’s not like we were doing a run of tens of thousands. Greg tweeted about it here, here, and – to be fair – here.

We were totally pissed, but it may have been a blessing in disguise, because soon after all the samples we had around the office started to break hard and fast. Plus the earbud samples we had requested never even showed up. Less than two months of use and we were getting busted speakers, broken headbands, and fucked up wires. Turns out they were really low quality after all. So I guess we dodged a bullet after all. But that doesn’t excuse Skullcandy’s unprofessionalism. Not cool bros.

The 2012 Academy Award nominations were announced early this morning and for some reason I can’t explain, I still give a shit about this. Everyone knows that the Academy always makes predictable choices – taking the bait of emotionally manipulative movies, especially historical biopics about royalty overcoming stuttering problems. This year the nominations are even more of a joke, with brazen snubs and jackass picks abound.

Any film with an inkling of indie production or spirit was overlooked, while bullshit movies that stick to the Oscar formula are lavished with nominations. Original, challenging movies like Take Shelter, Drive, Martha Marcy, and 50/50 are completely snubbed while moronic productions like War Horse and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close are nominated heavily. It’s been obvious for years that the Oscars award celebrity status and not actual achievements in cinema, so it’s really no surprise. But this year stings more than usual.

I’m not unhappy with the nominations that went to The Help, Hugo, and Nick Nolte, who got a very well deserved nod for his supporting role in Warrior. C’mon, the hotel scene where he gets blasted listening to Moby Dick on tape was absolutely gut wrenching. I watched The Help a few weeks ago. I put it on while doing laundry thinking it would be some bland 90 minutes about civil rights, but by the end I was weeping into my freshly washed towels. I honestly hope The Help sweeps this shit. Cheers to Bridesmaids, Tinker Tailor, and Bullhead as well.

While we didn’t review them on the Bloglin, I’ve seen The Artist and Moneyball, both nominated for Best Picture as well as in several other categories. These were two of the best reviewed movies of the year, but are you fucking kidding me? The Artist is a well-crafted gimmick with no heart and Moneyball was as deep as a bird bath. Brad Pitt plays Brad Pitt and people eat that shit up whether it’s engaging or not. Moneyball was a saccharine underdog movie with no emotional insight whatsoever. Oh I’m sorry, he does cry when his daughter plays guitar. *fart noise*

As much as I bitch, will I watch the Oscars next month? Of course I will. I’ll get drunk and scream at the TV and annoy my girlfriend about how retarded the Academy is. But at least they’re over at 11:00pm, just in time for Seinfeld.

For full list of nominees, hit the jump:

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