Where am I? What am I holding? I'm on the W—better than the V, because it never phonates like another letter ("What? I take the B? The G?")—and something falls out of my Voice. It's Savvy, a new fifteen page insert that looks like some seatback airplane asswiper, but I think it's on some Time Out New York-lite shit. It's in four colors? Our heart sinks, and then we see our man back in the game, tipping on OS X. And then, boom, Greg Tate sticks with hip-hop, and he's not letting go of Marx either. (That's when you pay attention to who owns stuff, and who gets paid off what. Like hip-hop!)
If you lost your guide to the gladiator matches, check Jeff Leeds and Lola Ogunnaike on Hot 97's Hall of Shame. Both reporters are reliably fire, and this piece is no exception—and it's a duet, like hip-hop!
And in a truly pathetic attempt to right years of discrimination against our beclawed brothers and sisters, the Times runs a lobster puff piece for the second day in a row. Lobsters—don't take the money. Stand up and fight. You need your own column.Posted by Sasha at March 16, 2005 10:40 AM | TrackBack