loosie: words: Hand of God

Hand of God

Jay and Nas confound the haters, the Michelin Guide comes to Gotham and Maureen Dowd is omnipresent.

by Staff | 2005.11.02

Thumbs down to the NBA’s dress code. Sure, we know the drilly. If you have to wear Dockers and Men’s Warehouse button-ups while mail-merging Excel spreadsheets in the Accounts Payable cubicle, then those pro athletes with million-dollar contracts, limber-limbed groupies and livable lives should have to wear business casual outfits too. Blah, blah, blah. A quick glance at what was banned – jewelry outside of clothing, sports jerseys, doorags – reveals the obvious: Stern is trying to turn the NBA into one of those lame Hip-Hop clubs with an expensive cover and a bunch of bougie bastards inside sipping chocolate martinis. The same thing happened at bOb right after the millennium, and now the place is all full of those Asian kids who swarm Eldridge St. looking for acrylic toys and limited edition sneakers. Is that what you want, Mr. Stern? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?

Thumbs up to the moderators in the final New York City Mayoral debate. Between a rumpled old coot, a flaxen-haired damsel and some sinister Latino who looked and sounded like Mr. Rourke from Fantasy Island, the questioners kept answers brief and frequently interrupted the candidates when they got ramblesome. We were also admirers of the videotaped queries from “real” New Yorkers, such as the shriveled Yoda guy from Queens who, while choking back tears, asked why the 7 train missed his stop during rush hour: “Hour rush, train why stop not.” Then he levitated back to the Flushing one-bedroom he shares with Luke and seven other illegal Jedi immigrants to feast on tins of stolen dog food.

Thumbs down to the candidates in the final New York City Mayoral debate. Bloomberg talks like a sissy and Ferrer is clearly a marionette controlled by South Bronx politicos hunched in the scaffolding. And where’s Diddy? If he’d run, we probably would have already forgiven him for this latest posthumous Biggie album debacle – and the shit might not even be out.

Thumbs up to Ferrer’s ad that portrays Mayor Bloomberg jerking off President Bush with a handful of dollar bills. While Fernando’s flagging campaign doesn’t have enough greenbacks to actually run the spot on television, we admire the last ditch gumption, even if it’s web-only. Yes, handjob attack ads: the last refuge of the scoundrel. Those complaining about the spot’s sordid nature should be relieved that the original concept, which included animated coitus between Bloomberg, Tom Ridge and a bull elephant, was left on the cutting room floor.

Thumbs down to anyone that cares about the arrival of the Michelin restaurant guide to New York. Steer clear of Zagats turf, you bagette-munching MC Solaar-admirers. Watch and learn, suckers: While some say caring about which Gotham eateries get the lofty three stars is “pointless culinary masturbation” and “a painfully bourgeoisie exercise”, others report that Michelin’s guide could “really, really not matter” and only serves as “another excuse for New York Magazine to slip in every issue’s obligatory mention of Jean Gorges.”

Thumbs up to the end of beef between Jay-Z and Nas. Not because we hope the pair will make songs or albums together, but just because those weird and hateful gnomes who adore Nasir and despise Hova are now clawing out their own eyes and deleting mp3s of The Lost Tapes in confusion. Distraught aficionados of single-cadence rappers will have to satisfy themselves with the GZA.

Thumbs up to the GZA. Because he’s the genius.

Thumbs up to Harry Reid. Since taking over from the heartless Tom Daschle, the pesky Nevadan pugilist has shown a willingness to lock horns with Republicans on a routine basis. And that closed-door “Shut this Motherfucker Down, Bitches” gambit on Tuesday may have been as ballsy as a Democrat has gotten since Gary Hart was swabbing the poop deck of the “Monkey Business”. Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist was reportedly so shaken that he accidentally bought a few shares of HCA Inc. while trying to explain how he had been “slapped in his increasingly ghoulish face” by the entire ordeal.

Thumbs down to Maureen Dowd for being fucking everywhere -- except readable on the Times website due to that TimesSelect firewall madness.