Now I’m sure you don’t wanna hear a boring ass write up or something from anyone else explaining this project besides me so I’ll give you exactly what you want… 2007 I took a leap of faith and decided that I was gonna pursue music full-time with little to no experience in the music business. My goals have been to connect with teens like me who’ve been abused (physically & sexually) and give them inspiration by showing them that no matter how rough life can be, you can channel your energy into something that is positive and prosper. Over the past few years I’ve release[d] a number of projects that represent different stages in my life reflecting on what I’ve experienced and ICON is no different…” (Nike Nando)
Nike Nando – ICON: Lord Of The Flyy
Tracklist:
1. Kingdom [Prod. Drew Beats]
2. Super Nike Nando II [Prod. Nike Nando]
3. Glow (Feat. Cayan) [Prod. Drew Beats]
4. Put Me On [Prod. Nike Nando]
5. Majin Vageta [Prod. Johnny Juliano]
6. The Low Down [Prod. NightRyder]
7. Caught In Lust (Feat. Dugee F. Buller) [Skit]
8. You Don’t Own Me [Prod. Sparkz Beats]
9. StarFox [Prod. Nike Nando]
10. Luh Me Doe (Feat. Rolls Royce Rizzy)
11. Hillfiger (Feat. Cayan)
12. M.O.B. [Prod. DeuceTheMusic]
13. What It Takes (Feat. Prince Akeem & Valleo) [Prod. Friendzone]
14. There She Go (Feat. Robbie Celeste) [Prod. Robbie Celeste]
15. Story Of My Life (Feat. Pop Smoothe) [Prod. Just Misfit]
Ok, I know, I know–why is a twenty-five-year-old man so concerned with College Park?
No, it’s not to scope out under-21’s and talk to them. I have OKCupid for that. Nor is it to speak on social media and, in turn, create memes out of my fellow Terps. They do that on their own. Since I live a literal hop, skip, and a jump away from UMD, I find myself in the area more often than I like to admit than not. I also still conduct a teeny bit of business in the area, therefore I’m invested in places where I can (cheaply) talk turkey. So, when I heard that a Denny’s was opening in the area, I was both cautious and enthusiastic. Growing up in Baltimore, the only Denny’s within a twelve-mile radius was this run-down spot near North Point Road that’s now a Sudsville laundromat near an almost deserted K-Mart.
This area looks almost nothing like it did when I was younger…but almost exactly the same. Think about it. About five minutes from here resides the Gentleman’s Gold Club. It’s exactly what you think it is.
Suffice to say, I’d heard of it, knew what it was, but I’d never had it. But, I always wanted it. Like some slightly below average Holy Grail, I searched high and low for a Denny’s. Whenever I found one, there was always something a bit…better to do/eat. But, recently, I couldn’t avoid my cautious enthusiasm about the place any longer. So, after a long day at work, the family and I drove down Route One, past the Enclave, past the Taco Bell, to a little slice of Americana: the Denny’s of Greater College Park. While I didn’t expect five-star dining, what I got exceeded my lowest expectations in terms of “SMH.”
When we walked in, we were three of (including the staff) maybe twenty people in the restaurant. I chalked it up to finals, but it stuck out in my mind; the place just opened not too long ago. Ke$ha and Bruno Mars played from the sound system, so the idea of this being a slice of modern Americana was kept intact, albeit a bit glittered and puffed up. Our waiter, a young woman in her twenties, was pleasant but forgot the bare necessities (making sure your tables are properly equipped with silverware, keeping your menus accessible, keeping your order pad on your person, checking back on your customers, making sure your customers aren’t ready to torch the place because the service they’ve gotten has been below sub-par, etc). When we finally did get her to stop and get everything in order, she was quite apologetic for everything (that’s a plus to alleviate my negativity) and took our orders. I had the “Red White and Blue” French Toast. The family had kid-sized spaghetti and the Cheesesteak Omelet, respectively.
About forty minutes later (after a slew of “mishaps”), our food arrived. My “red white and blue” was replaced by butter pecan and cinnamon. My eggs were cold and my sausages were more mushy than my cats food. The omelet lacked, well, most of what it was supposed to have (you know, peppers, onions, taste–that sort of thing). And our beverages were…unique. We got flavored lemonades. The “mango lemonade” was some Minute Made that was (supposedly) squeezed fresh with a giant glob of mango syrup at the bottom. I stirred and I stirred, but they just don’t make water wet enough to dissolve the “mango” into the drink in any way. I’d understand if it’s puree; puree isn’t supposed to flat-out dissolve into things. But, it was literally half-a-cup full of syrup.
The only thing that came out remotely like expected was my kid’s spaghetti.
Upon paying my check, the cashier asked me how everything was.
“Uh, it was…cool…kind of different,” I hesitantly said, biting my tongue.
“Well, it wasn’t no Ruth’s Chris, was it,” the cashier cheekily asked me, sensing my disdain.
And in the back of my mind (and the front of it), I answered honestly.
“No. No, it wasn’t,” I retorted as I walked out, head-shaking family in tow.
Did I expect Ruth’s Chris? Heck no. But, I at least expected something better than what I got. Maybe it’s some post-open jitters that they’re still trying to work out. That’s entirely possible, just like Terrapin Turf before it (expect a part three of that series at some point, probably in the fall of ’14 with my old a**). Personally, I probably wouldn’t go back for a while, but if you’re in the mood to wait around and possibly get the wrong food, check it out.
At least the pancake puppies were divine. Even though by the time they brought us syrup, the puppies had gotten a bit cold.
Until next time, this is your (admittedly cynical) critic Speed on the Beat, the one who endures awkwardness and clusters so you don’t have to, signing off.
You may remember him from his NycRapp video that debuted earlier this year, but Brain Rapp switches it up and showcases his solo flow on the Koja Nc produced single “Shine”. After months of performing and fine tuning his “Feels Good” project which debuted two months ago, Brain Rapp provides a visual for his mellow, laid back single by filming the entire video himself solely on an iPhone. I appreciate this song and the video because it takes us back to the core of what hip-hop is, low-cost artistry that tells an honest story through lyrics and captivating visuals. The fact the video was shot solely on an iPhone illustrates not just how far technology and music has come since the early stages of hip-hop, but also showcases Brain Rapp’s multiple talents as a writer, rapper, director, photographer, and editor. Other up-and-coming artists should take notes from this guy. He is living by the motto, “If you want something done right. Do it yourself.” And one thing is for certain, if Brain Rapp follows that motto throughout his career he will surely “Shine” for many years to come. Be sure to follow Brain Rapp on his social media: Facebook, Twitter, and SoundCloud and check out the video below!
“Shine” was the first single from Feels Good. Soon after its release I got the invite to perform at A3C. I wanted to shoot a video for it but I wanted to do something different. Instead of using the DSLR to shoot, I opted to make it more organic and shoot the whole thing on my iPhone. Using my first experience at A3C to tell the story of “Shine” was fitting because the song is all about gaining exposure, stepping into the spotlight, and letting people know that you belong there. – Brain Rapp
Happy (Day After) Cyber Hump Day. Looks like I’m pulling triple duty this week, with my usual TWIHH post and part three of the (Not-So) Social Media series over at SpeedontheBeat.com (Caution: Part Three of the series is highly NSFW. Viewer discretion is strongly advised). But, I hope you’ve gotten your fill of stuffing, turkey, ratchet beatdowns and Twitter thirsting after that one young’un chick who seems/seemed catfishy is supposedly from the University of Maryland that had people in a tizzy about a week or so back (Hi Reyna).
Apparently, this is the safest for work photo existing of her.
For this one, I’d like to go a bit personal and talk a bit about an event that impacted me and my approach to music. Yes, for those who forgot, I also do record and produce music under this lovely little moniker.
During my early years at UMD, I wasn’t DK, Dee Redd, Eyedeal or any of them. I was little ol’ J dot Speed, the kid that popped up randomly at Juke Joint, performed, then left to do sociology homework at McKeldin. Like a ninja, I came on stage, killed it, then stealthily sneaked out (except when I didn’t and made a complete fool of myself, but that’s how I learn). I wasn’t in it for fame or money or anything. I just had good music, and I wanted to share it. Even though I found a couple of gems in that year, I wasn’t even trying to be a talent head hunter.
I had less studio options than I do now. So most of the time I’d write something down in class, run back to Centerville 5 North, write “ON AIR” on our dry erase board, and record. Sometimes, I’d even have pow-wows with other artists, potentially trying to craft another song or a collabo. These collabos usually didn’t go anywhere, except for one time when my friend Dre and I decided to do a song together and perform it at Juke Joint. These were magic times for me. I mean, even after the fact that I’d been signed a few times growing up, I was still able to find joy, peace, and harmony in music. I was able to voice opinions I held dormant with music. I was able to speak to the world and heal it through my glitchy, uber-no-fi songs. I was able to make nothing but friends through it all.
Until everything went south.
Ikey (left) with J-Roc at Maryland Day 2007
While working on that Dre/Speed collabo, our mutual friend Ikey (yes, “Green Card” and “Coming to America” Ikey a/k/a Ike da Kid) was also working on projects with a friend, J-Roc. We’d all play our stuff to each other, and would perfect our respective segments and samples based on critiques. Now, somewhere in the midst of this, Ike and J-Roc performed a song entitled “Made Men” at Juke Joint. It had a line that went something like “My name is J-R, to the OC and I’m a boss, ballin’ up in the VIP.” I thought it was kind of cool, so I took the phrasing of the line to craft the following for a track entitled “I Got ‘Em”:
“My name is J-D, to the O-T/And son I’m a boss, what you supposed to be?”
I didn’t think anything of it (though I probably should have–look at Can-i-Bus and LL as an example of re-purposing lines starting beef), until I performed the song at what I like to call “Speed’s Maryland Day Meltdown.” At Maryland Day 2007, going on right after Ikey and J-Roc was me. So, here I was: 5’7, in a white Orioles fitted, shades–which I eventually beamed at someone in the audience, trying to be “cool”–capris, and a durag (Fashion Gods and Common Sense, forgive me) spitting lyrics. The first song I performed was “I Got ‘Em.”
Ike and J-Roc left the event after the first verse, and I got a couple of “ooohs,” but not of the “kill ’em” variety. Because of this performance, I’m pretty sure that I’m still banned from stepping foot near Stamp and McKeldin Mall during Maryland Day. I know I was barred from Juke Joint for a couple of performances. Walking back to Dre’s dorm in Easton, I ran into Ike and J-Roc and I congratulated them on their performance.
“Good job, y’all. You guys doing anything later? Dre and I may head down to South Campus. I think DJ [Strawberry]’s people are doing something, so I heard.”
All I got was icy stares scalding enough, they’d make heat melt. Ike and J-Roc walked away as I looked back at them, dumbfounded.
“What’s going on,” I asked the group I was with.
“Well, Speed, you did just diss the [stuffing] out of Ike and Jeremie,” one of them said, somewhat laughing at what’d just transpired.
“I did? How,” I asked, completely oblivious to the fact that my homage and re-purposed line came off and came out exactly like sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-shots fired.
Over the next month-plus through the end of the semester, there was a feeling of animosity in the air. Any cliché you can insert about the tension, it’d apply. Friends chose sides (the second time that happened among our group of friends that year). People got offended. Threats were fired off and glances exchanged. But, there was no music being made.
Until that damned “Cannon” remake. Now, I’m the type of person that will congratulate a person for dissing me. I’ll say “yo, dude. That bar was crazy. I didn’t think you’d go at me like that!” I’m just crazy like that. And, looking back six years later, that ish did kind of go in, except when it devolved into bar after bar…after bar of “Speed, you’re short” jokes. But, for the first time, I was taken aback and legitimately pissed off by the amount of foolishness that’d risen from a line that was initially meant as a kudos for a good bar. So, naturally, I fired back with something out of Game’s playbook, a 10-minute track where I just spazzed even more than Ike and J-Roc had. This went back and forth until the end of the semester.
For two years, Ike and I didn’t speak. I eventually removed the disses I’d dropped because J-Roc got killed and I, you know, didn’t want to speak ill of the dead over some BS rap “beef.” Eventually, Ike and I kind of reconciled–or at least stopped being so “damn dawg” about the fact that things went down as they did. It was funny how it happened. It was a random day during our Senior year. We were both in McKeldin and I happened to just say “screw it” and say “Hey, Ike. Man, my bad for all that. We were young and hotheaded.” And that was that.
So how did all of this impact me to become “The No-Fi King,” you’re probably wondering. Well, it gave me an even tougher skin. Realizing that people may get offended by things I said, I became more aware of what I said, how I said it, and who I said it to. Essentially, the Ike “beef” made me grow up musically and personally. That horrible Maryland Day debacle made me realize that I had incredibly bad anxiety issues and no amount of pre-gaming before a performance would alleviate them. Heck, they’d probably make them worse. So, future performances, I approached them soberly and without any craziness. And if I hadn’t been lyrically challenged by Ike during the beef, I probably wouldn’t have continued to do this music thing. Because I’ll be honest: to me, Ike was probably the most lyrical cat at UMD during our tenure there. So, while I’d beaten up on children before in battles, Ike represented the first man I’d battled/beefed with. And, at that point, I hope I pushed him to do the same.
Six years later and we’re still both making noise in our respective areas, though. So, I guess I did what he did.
If you’re in a bad mood right now, it’s your fault. Sober yourself with that notion.
Someone may have crashed into your car, stepped on your foot, and stole all your money. Now you’re angry at the world. It’s easy to conclude that this anger is someone else’s fault. But it’s not. It’s yours.
So long as you are looking for a reason to be angry, sad, victimized, hurt, etc., you will always find one. It’s called confirmation bias. It’s also called putting out bad vibes or attracting like energy. Either way, it all connects back to you. Ever start off a day on a bad note, and the day continues to be terribly “meh” or even bad from there on out? That’s no coincidence.
I am far from a Pollyanna, and if someone crashed into my car, stepped on my feet AND stole all my money, I’d probably fume around for a few hours too. Or maybe a day (or week). But there is one thing that is 100% guaranteed to change your mood, change your vibration, change your day, and change your life:
GRATITUDE.
In the above hyperbolic situation, it would be hard to feel thankful for a car crash or an emptied bank account, right? But what if you shifted your perspective? What if you were thankful that you even had a car? What if you were thankful that you had the job that could recover your losses? And a stretch—what if you were grateful you even had feet?!
As Oprah says, if you’re breathing on your own without the assistance of a machine, that alone is something to be grateful for. (Go ahead, take a deep breath. Doesn’t it feel good?!)
Sometimes I go days soaking in sulk, thinking pointless things like Why not me or How come she got that or I’m ugly. These thoughts are energy vampires. They rob the world of my good mood and attract back to me more and more situations to feel pitiful about.
It is unnatural to be going through a tough time, stop yourself, and say Oh, it’s okay. I should stop being sad and just be grateful for this, that, and the other. I don’t advocate that. Move through your feelings, you are human. But I would always hope that there is a little tickle in the back of your mind that reminds you that you are loved, safe, and well provided for, no matter your situation or means. (It’s true. What glory it is that trees and plants take the toxicity from the air and allow us to breathe in clean oxygen. Little wonders like that should make you smile REAL big.)
If you took thirty seconds out of everyday to be grateful for three things, you can literally change your brain and become hardwired for happiness (neuroplasticity).
Aren’t you thankful for the computer or mobile device that’s allowing you to read this? So many people in the world don’t even have an Internet connection. Aren’t you grateful for the education that allows you to comprehend this? So many people in the world don’t have the gift of literacy. Aren’t you grateful for your warm bed? So many people in the world are without shelter. It’s the very things you take for granted that would mean the world to others.
They don’t have to be grandiose things either. You can be grateful for getting to eat a favorite meal of yours, grateful for having a television show that makes you laugh, or grateful for a device that holds ALL YOUR SONGS (and you get to listen to them whenever you want!) !!!!
A second thing I don’t advocate is wallowing in guilt for your gifts, and playing the Well someone has it worse than me, I should just shut up card. Someone will always be doing worse than you, how does your pity help them any? Be grateful for the things you have and let that satisfaction, comfort, and happiness COMPEL you to spread those feelings to those less fortunate. With gratitude, everyone wins.
I know you’re probably tempted to write this off as some airy-fairy, “goo goo ga ga” hippie nonsense. Big, ethereal notions like being grateful that you have working lungs, or being grateful for the spectacularly random position Earth occupies in space that makes life even possible may be unhelpful in small, more human upsets. I hear that. And sometimes it really does feel good to play victim—it takes the responsibility for your life off you and places it into some fickle higher force that’s controlling your destiny and wants you to suffer (no such thing!). Or maybe you’re media-vigilant, and see so much bad going on in the world that you feel it futile or unhelpful to feel good about anything.
But there is nothing fanciful or idealistic about looking around in your life and seeing what IS working for you. And something always WILL be working for you. I would behoove you to focus your energy on that. Focus on what you do have, rather than what you do not. Focus on what the world is doing well (clean energy initiatives, better healthcare, more tolerance), rather than what it’s struggling with. This is not about zoning out in your rose-colored glasses, refusing to see anything wrong. It’s about allowing yourself to feel good, hopeful, and enthusiastic in the midst of things going wrong, and allowing that high-frequency energy to touch and color everything. Because it will. And that is how the world and you will heal.
A miracle is a shift in perspective. Gratitude is the oil that allows that shift to move smoothly. And when you smile, the world smiles back.
You can start small with me. Like today I am grateful for warm cups of tea, wool socks, and my guitar.
Check out Paperboy Prince of The Suburbs’ visual for The Paper Route classic “Goregeous Prince George’s”. Paper steps out of The Office to show us some of the finer things Prince George’s County, Maryland has to offer. Check out the video below and be sure to tell all of your friends about “Goregeous Prince George’s” by sharing this link and tweeting the hashtag #ThankYouPaperBoy! Also, be sure to follow Paper on his social media: Tumblr, YouTube, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, Soundcloud and DatPiff.
We at Thee Arteest love receiving positive and thought-provoking new music from local artists. So when our good friend/singer/rapper Husky Hazel sent us his new song titled “Uproar” which features production from Da Arc Angeal and is one of the singles from his Sailuropoda project (slated for second quarter release in 2014) we were delighted to share this with our readers. The genre-bending record sonically pulls from rock, hip-hop, and r&b influences while purveying lyrics that touch on everything from Trayvon Martin to the Y.O.L.O. movement. But, if the lyrics of the song do not resound in your temporal lobe, Hazel’s r&b crooning of the hook are sure to surprise you. Carrying a Wanya Morris (lead singer of Boyz II Men) feel, Hazel is as equally talented at singing as he is at rapping and his musical prowess is displayed all over “Uproar”. So check it out and if you like it be sure to follow Husky Hazel on his social media: Reverbnation, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, and Instagram.
“Wasn’t trying to make a social awareness record….but if it speaks to you, respond in action.” ~ Husky Hazel
IMPORTANT: WANT TO VIEW MORE CONTENT LIKE THIS? BECOME A FAN ON FACEBOOK OR GET EMAIL UPDATES BY CLICKING THE FOLLOW BUTTONS ON THE LEFT SIDE OF OUR HOME PAGE.
As promised, my DJ alter ego @BmoreSupplier’s #SearchingForAuroraJolie2 mix. Turn it up to 11, but in your headphones. This one gets dirty. And explicit. And…sexual. It’s a raw mix. Why not incorporate more of…well, you know.
Now that the shameless plug’s out the way, let us get into This…Week…In…Hip-Hop! (Halloween Edition).
No, I’m not going to talk about how scary it is that we live in a world where Tech N9ne can get on a track with Lil’ Wayne, call it “F— Food,” and have it reach heights most people never will. That song, I’m slightly ashamed to admit, is one of my favorite tracks from All 6’s and 7’s. Nor will I talk about my favorite sexy costumes as originally planned (hint: It’s the one with the miniskirt and the boobage-enhancing half-shirt). No, it’s time for…some of the worst Halloween (or “scary,” for the hipsters) rap songs in history. Now, I could have gone the easy route and said “best,” because that’d just involve me listening to some horrorcore and then slapping on that one Will Smith song at the end and saying that I survived until the next year.
The Fat Boys are iconic. They’re amazing. They, in Krush Grove (when I randomly saw it as a five-year-old), made me want to beatbox and rap. But, in 1984, they appeared on the original Nightmare on Elm Street soundtrack. Let’s just say that the end results were…headshakingly bad. There is no way in hell you’re going to tell me that hearing Freddy Krueger bust a rhyme doesn’t make you forget that he’s a character that kills and tortures children through their dreams. At least Will’s version didn’t have Robert Englund droppin’ knowledge.
Word.
This song almost makes me sad that Miami Booty Bass (or even early to mid ’90s B’more Club) was ever a thing.
((WARNING: This is the Uncensored version of the song and video. Not Safe For Watching at work!!!))
My logic behind listing Kanye West’s “Monster” is two-fold. The video is insane, but the verses really have nothing to do with the video–at all. So, a song that many rap bloggers call a spooky Halloween song is only spooky if you’re watching the friggin’ video. Other than that? It’s standard late-2000s Kanye West. Secondly, the video isn’t scary, more-so just demented. It’d be like calling the Saw franchise a psychological thriller when compared to, say, Memento or One-Hour Photo.
This is “Airplanes” meets “mid-life crisis” meets “slight references to borderline personalities and depression.” My God. Not every Eminem song is supposed to be scary, nor is every song supposed to be “Stan.” But, this song, non-scare factor aside, is what makes me afraid of MMLP2. Heck, that may put it on the best scary songs list, then.
I’ll probably be hit in the head with a couple of Faygo bottles, but almost any ICP song can be on this list. In the tradition of the last two entrants on this list, I’ve posted a song that has nothing to do with scariness. It’s scary that this song makes absolutely no sense. What I learned from it is that magic is real and dogs and cats aren’t–or something. The logic behind “Miracles” is like giving your three-year-old free rein to try to explain where people go when they die. It’s not pretty and only funny if you have a pretty messed-up sense of humor. Luckily, I’m a master of the black (comedy) arts, so hooray!
To sum it up, my second trip to TT involved someone being thrown out and slow service with a highly anti-enthusiastic crowd. But, at least the gogo dancers had back this time. That’s a consolation, right? Anyone? No? Well, without further ado, here’s the long version.
I arrived around 11:45. I find getting to a place for “Zombie Time” (especially in a college town) allows you to see it for all its glory–or, in the case of The Barking Dog, lack thereof. Once inside, I saw the place was halfway crowded. A marked improvement over the grand opening night. However, it was still a bit discouraging, considering the “thousands” that apparently flocked to the spot over the past few weeks. Little did I know, the night would go down the tubes quicker than crowds began to disperse.
My first mistake? I decided to go to the non-island bar. People who remember Fe, you’ll remember this sort of thing didn’t really exist before the Big Switch. So, it was an interesting sight to see. In some ways, it was a gentle homage to Fe, since part of the bar was outside as well. But, nostalgia went out the window once The Wait began.
I’ve been to fully clothed strip clubs with better service. I went to the bar as soon as I got in and didn’t get a drink until 12:30. Literally, nothing I did worked. I was almost tempted to (with permission, of course) have a patron go topless to get the bartenders’ attention. But, I don’t think even that could’ve re-railed the train wreck of insanity. (Speed on the Beat Drinking Game: every time I say train wreck in this post, take a shot of 151. I’m sure you’ll have more fun than I did.)
This is Dalivia. She works at the aforementioned Blowfish. She also makes drinks that kill people.
I began to think that it was because of, you know, me being a black male in a “club” which played techno remixes of “Problems” and “All Gold Everything.” But, alas, racism wasn’t the flavor of the night, just sub-par service and general douchery. By the time I received my drink, any buzz I’d accumulated from the Blowfish bar in Beltsville was long gone. As a sidenote, if you ever visit Blowfish between Monday and Wednesday, and some weekends, make sure Dalivia serves you. She gives some insanely potent drinks and isn’t all that bad on the eyes. But, I digress.
At 12:40, I was propositioned by a young man asking for a cigarette. He almost kissed me three times in 10 seconds. I’ve never wanted to punch a dude out more in my life. Not because he was (potentially) gay, because hate crimes are stupid and have no place in developed society. It was more that this guy invaded my personal space like no other person has, made me feel incredibly uncomfortable, and tried to kiss me. Cooler heads prevailed and I avoided catching a case, and he walked away, eventually. I swear, I think it’s because I’m 5’7″-ish sometimes, that people think I’ll take what’s given. Nope. But, that’s another post for another time.
Oh, I haven’t even gotten to the fun parts. At least five times an hour in TT, I saw someone get thrown out forcibly. Most of the people, well, they deserved it. There was one girl, who couldn’t have weighed over 110 pounds and wasn’t a complete train wreck, who suffered the same fate. I mean, bouncers that are ready to throw people out only two-plus weeks into the place’s existence rubs me some type of way. I mean, I know the last TT’s demise was predicated by a slew of bad behavior. Nevertheless, an almost authoritarian approach to kicking (possible) baddies out isn’t exactly the best option either–in my humble opinion. When I (somewhat) worked at Bentley’s as a (kind of) bouncer, there was the mindset of “hey, if they’ve had too much to drink, go to them and ask them to leave. If they don’t, bring in some other people to give that ‘fear in numbers’ vibe. If they still don’t, then you have a bit of authority to use reasonable force.” The people at TT weren’t really given those options and were tossed accordingly. Mind you, this is from an objective stance; I may have missed something, but I’m just telling you what I saw.
At 1:00AM, I decided all hope was lost, as I saw even the go-go dancers were headed out to get away from some of the randomness of the night. So, as I’ve done many times before, I made that potentially dangerous trek across Knox Road and then across Baltimore Avenue.
As politically incorrect as she is, the girl isn’t completely dense with her (almost) equal-opportunity humor.
Waiting to get inside Cornerstone, I looked back over to Terrapin Turf. “This place can be amazing,” I thought. “But, its placement, and atmosphere may scare a lot of people away.” In College Park, most people go to Route One for cheap drinks, cheap thrills, and an atmosphere where they don’t feel segregated against for not being on the up-and-up. Ok, maybe “segregated” isn’t exactly the best word, but you get the idea.
TT is, in some ways, for the Rebecca Martinson’s (of “c-word punching soror letter” and BroBible fame) of College Park who want a DC vibe without DC prices. That is, when they’re not busy calling sorors c-words, offering up outlandish dating advice, and/or staying away from poor minorities. That’s not to say that TT itself isn’t to blame for its shortcomings thus far. The place is a train wreck of a pseudo-club at the moment, and half-hour drink waits, along with more tosses than Flacco when the Ravens are losing is ridiculous–new spot or not.
THEE ARTEEST 
