Gossiping Bitches proudly offers (former?) Village Voice/Pitchfork writer Nick Sylvester the position of associate editor. Not to say we need any new talent or anything; you’ll have to compete with several of the brightest writers on the web for precious space on a dynamic, constantly updating website. But the fact can’t be denied: we like your style. Sure, some naysayers may say nay at the propriety of a journalist blurring the line between lie and Big Lie, but this line is what the GBs are all about. We live on that line. We’ve snorted that line with several celebrities, in fact (check the archives). The fabricators among us must stick together in a media environment so intolerant of the type of entertaining half-truths and noble untruths GB publishes daily (okay, semiannually). And that’s word to our overseas correspondent Jayson Blair (currently on assignment in Islamastangeria).

So, Mr. Sylvester, holla back. Our pay is competitive (assuming you were being paid nothing, that is — which we understand was likely the case at Pitchfork), our lies fantastical, our identities untraceable (all defamation lawsuits against us name GB editors Germ Alms and Mike Ock as defendants and are served on a dry cleaner in Norman, Oklahoma). We offer everything that the rest of this cold, unforgiving media world does not and stand up for the principles of free untruthful speech (what we refer to as the 1st and a half Amendment). We await your response.

-- a Gossiping Bitch

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Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity to seize everything you ever wanted — one moment — would you capture it or just let it slip? Well, thanks to Hollywood, you’ll find out the answer to this question over and over again in the coming years.

In the first films about people trying to make it in hip-hop, the protagonists were either black (Krush Groove, Beat Street) or of indeterminate race (Wild Style). Jump cut to 2002 with the release of 8 Mile, the semi-autobiographical star vehicle for Eminem. The movie marked a sea change for the “hip-hoppers-on-a-comeup” genre by featuring a main character who every White child could look up to and say, “Why not me too?”

Why not you, Matt? Because you have no talent, that’s why. Nevermind that though — the movie was a money-maker for its studio, which of course meant that the rest of the industry had to then find a dozen ways to retell the same story until it was bled dry. The first release (of many to follow) was Bomb the System, the 8 Mile of graffiti. It told the comforting (if unnecessarily confusing) story of a White graffiti writer who overcomes difficult familial circumstances to gain universal acceptance amongst all races for his superior ability. Sound familiar?

Well, if you’re too stupid to say, “Yeah I know, it sucks,” you will soon feel the lukewarm wave of familiarity every time you look in the Arts section of your local paper, because a slew of other 8 Mile knockoffs are coming to a theater near you. One studio in particular, Lighthole, has several “8 Mile of … ” films in the works.

“We think we’ve found a niche in the market here,” said Herman Steinemanowitz, chairman of Lighthole and executive producer of all the projects. “Name a facet of hip-hop, and we’ve ‘got it sewn,’ as the kids say. [chuckles] We’ve got the 8 Mile of everything coming. The 8 Mile of break dancing, the 8 Mile of beatboxing, the 8 Mile of crack cooking (for all the new hip-hop fans out there), the 8 Mile of video ho’ing, etcetera, etcetera. Even an 8 Mile of black nationalism, where a couple of suburban kids dress up in Che Guevara shirts and stuff, and rap like X-Clan or Dead Prez. We were gonna do an 8 Mile of DJ’ing, but thought that it would be redundant.”

Aside from profits, the motivation to produce the films is clear to Steinemanowitz: “I’m not doing this for the money. I’m doing it for that young buck out there who dreams of making it in a world that is so foreign to his own. We’re going to keep making these movies on different aspects of hip-hop until all White people feel completely accepted doing everything. That’s our goal. Etcetera, etcetera.”

When reached for comment, Eminem said, “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but I have a daughter named Hailey.”

-- a Gossiping Bitch

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“Yeah, I may be coming back and whatever. I’m having sex with Beyonce. Def Jam doing alright. Young Jeezy moving units. Drug raps! Who would have thought it? But what I’m really most excited about right now is that I got an order for Shiny Object #7. I’m supposed to be one of the first ones in the world getting it. I think it’s like some prince in the Middle East and then me. This thing is gonna change the hip-hop game. Either you got it, or your career is over. Y’know?!”

It started with a comment from Jay-Z in the September issue of GQ. Jigga may be momentarily retired from the game, but his influence remains strong in the hip-hop community, as seen by the subsequent firestorm his remarks caused. Thug rappers everywhere rushed to their local jewelers to obtain this Shiny Object #7 without quite knowing what it was. They all left disappointed however, as there is still a cloud of mystery surrounding the unreleased Shiny Object #7, and few have any idea of what it is or how to get it.

Enter Gossiping Bitches, who was contacted last week by Cartier at our European Bureau. The jeweler confirmed that it was developing Shiny Object #7 and that Jay-Z will in fact receive one of the first ones made, but revealed little else.

(Continued…)

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Gossiping Bitches proudly announces our joint cash gettin’ venture with Nokia, as part of their “It’s Your Life in There” ad campaign. Below, you will find various figures discussing one of the great joys of cell phone use: deleting the numbers of motherfuckers you don’t like anymore.

So, like, when I’m breaking up with somebody, the last thing I do is delete him from my cell phone. It is so great, because when you go to the phone and you delete it, and your phone asks, “Are you sure?” you look at your phone and you’re like, “Oh yeah, I’m sure.” [laughs uncontrollably] He wasn’t in my phone anymore. [maniacal laughter] I don’t even know who he is! David who? [deranged chortling] It’s almost like I never knew him at all. [primal howling] Or maybe he never existed in the first place? [clutching bedsheets, spitting] Perhaps he was just another delusion, like how I convinced myself that I live in an apartment when I’m really at a mental institution, committed here after I tortured the housepets of the children I was babysitting and made them watch. [wild flailing of limbs, nosebleed] And did I really have a cell phone in the first place, or was I speaking into an alarm clock all this time? But that couldn’t be true if it were answering back, could it? I was clearly instructed by the voice to trap the wandering headspell in the wave of my spherical apparatus until it was time to unleash on the Neuro Usurpers, because this is MY TIME, right now, and they won’t win, or we’ll all go together, I promise, because the FUCKING FASCIST PIGS ARE TRYING TO TAKE WHAT’S LEFT OF OUR BRAINS … [banging head against dresser, restrained and sedated by staff doctors]

So, anyway, yeah that’s what I love about my phone! [chuckles]

(Continued…)

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Gossiping Bitches proudly announces that it will not be publishing a “Best Albums of 2005″ list, making us the Only People on the Internet not to assume you cared what they thought was good. In the past, many of you have expressed dissatisfaction with our rather casual and intermittent posting schedule, but at times like this you must appreciate our laziness, right? Our lack of motivation has spared you at least one lone website visit where you won’t be forced to ponder things like whether you wanted to hear an album about a state by a guy with a gay name, or whether crack is really all that bad, or whether an unfulfilled brown girl fetish is enough reason to spend $14.

1. For we will not be laboring over lists that will be forgotten instantly, until this time next year when people will check the archives to dismiss reviewers’ current tastes by recalling how horrible their past tastes were. Unless, of course, you’re still down with Roni Size Whateverthefuck.

2. We will not be assigning arbitrary rankings to our selections, nor will we even struggle to find ten things we actually liked. We didn’t like ten things. We didn’t like three things. We hated everything. We hate you. We’d be down to write a -1 through -1,000,000 list, but that would be too negative for you, wouldn’t it? You’re just looking for something new to get into, or itching for an argument over omissions. We refuse to give you the satisfaction.

3. We will not be indulging the idea that one period of music is to be differentiated from another by something as silly as the end of a four digit number. This makes even less sense in the age of blogs, where tastes change dramatically from month to month, trend to trend. Besides, is there really an album that represents how you were into grime, until you weren’t, and then into favela, followed by “Baltimore club music”? Yet these things tell us more about what kind of year 2005 was than the Clipse mixtapes. Everything sucked and that forced us to latch on to anything. Bringing us to the next point…

4. We will not pretend you care about what albums released in 2005 we liked. You’re big boys and girls. You can find that shit on your own. What should reviewers/bloggers be telling us? It’d be nice if some of the ones pronouncing G.O.A.T. status to rookies would disclose the fact they only started listening to rap in the ’00s. We’d like to know which ones copped the Stezo reissue this year and acted like they weren’t born in the ’80s. We’d like to know which ones are fronting like they’ve been down with Bun B all this time, not just when they found out where Houston was on a Texas map. I mean, those guys are popular now? What kind of revisionist history is that?

5. See how goofy lists are? Now stop.

-- a Gossiping Bitch

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