Megan Morris/Flickr

Each one of these tents? FULL OF DRUGS.

​"Officially, Bonnaroo forbids drugs. Unofficially, all kinds of drugs were as easy to find as the ice cream. Marijuana was most prevalent. As at many festivals and rock concerts, the usual laws seem not to apply; transactions that could lead to a prison term on city streets are conducted openly here. "
—The Times blows the lid off the whole "people doing drugs at Bonnaroo" story with a tsk-tsky op-ed by self-proclaimed "eclectic listener" Carrie Jerrell, who makes the above observation. Elsewhere in the piece, you'd better believe there's a Woodstock comparison! And it invokes a Kennedy in the following manner: "The kids didn't know who he was. They didn't care. They just wanted to hear more music." Kids today, am I right? I bet you everyone at Woodstock paid attention to every last political word uttered from that stage!

​We did it, Internet! This week's subject of Deborah Solomon's occasionally derided, frequently entertaining, CONDENSED AND EDITED "Questions For..." column is none other than SOTC pals Das Racist. And if you thought they were backing down upon reaching the New York Times Magazine, well...

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Ricki Rosen for NYT

​"The tall man in the velvet fedora and knee-length black jacket with ritual fringes" taking "long, swift strides toward the Western Wall" in today's New York Times is not Knicks basketball star Amare Stoudemire, who discovered his Hebrew roots over the summer. It's Brooklyn rapper Shyne, noted for his vocal similarities to the Notorious B.I.G., but most famous for his role in a 1999 club shooting also involving his Bad Boy mentor Puff Daddy and Jennifer Lopez. Shyne, just 19-years-old at the time, would go on to serve nine years of a ten year prison sentence. Upon his release in the Fall of 2009, Shyne was deported to his native Belize. Now, he's really serious about Judaism.

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​You may have been surprised to learn, in our chat last week with NY gubernatorial candidate/Internet sensation Jimmy McMillan, a/k/a the "Rent Is Too Damn High" guy, that he's got both a soul-singer background and a brand-new album, The Rent Is Too DAMN High, v. 1, due out tomorrow, a/k/a Election Day. The Times is now kindly hosting an ostensible sneak preview, which frankly has to violate some sort of media/campaign law, no?

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​Today's New York Times brings a startling bit of news: the sneaker company Converse is opening a recording studio in the heart of Williamsburg, to be called Converse Rubber Tracks, where bands "deemed dedicated and needy enough" will be able to record for free. Artists selected to use the space will retain the ownership rights to whatever they record there. (Though Converse also promises that the studio will "give bands the means to expose their music to a much larger audience through content captured while recording, including songs and behind-the-scenes video," meaning that those things will be posted to the Converse website. Whether that's optional, they don't say.) The article's author, Ben Sisario, after first detouring through why Converse (and a host of other companies) would do this (it's good branding) and why bands would cooperate (they're broke, and don't care), arrives at the central question that arises from such an unconventional arrangement. To paraphrase: does doing business with Converse necessarily mean selling out? And, more basically: Is it even possible to sell out in 2010?

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​Watching the Times attempt to cover profane bands, songs, and social phenomena without offending their august readership by actually using profanity remains a great joy of ours, so it is with great happiness that we announce that they've finally weighed in on... a certain song. By Cee Lo. Very popular on the Internet recently. You know the one:

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​Lynn Hirschberg was adamant in an interview Tuesday with the Observer's John Koblin that, although M.I.A. had tapes that seemed to show that Hirschberg misquoted her in Sunday's now-famous Times Magazine profile, she'd gotten her reporting right. At issue? A disputed quote involving the Grammys and Bono, which Hirschberg had as self-aggrandizing-- "I'm tired of pop stars who say, 'Give peace a chance.' I'd rather say, 'Give war a chance'"--and which M.I.A.'s covertly recorded tapes, later posted on her website, seemed to reveal as more self-deprecating: "It wasn't about accolades or fame." Hirschberg explained the discrepancy away by claiming M.I.A. was prone to repeating herself, implying that the quote she used was drawn from another exchange entirely: "She didn't just say that once or twice or three times. She repeated things constantly." Now, however, the Times has come down on M.I.A.'s side of the issue, appending a correction to Hirschberg's story:

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​So, if you're following along: Lynn Hirschberg outed M.I.A. as a member of the bourgeoisie in her New York Times Magazine profile of the artist via a selective anecdote involving a truffle-flavored french fry; M.I.A. struck back by Tweeting Hirschberg's number to the world; Hirschberg averred to the Observer's John Koblin that this action was "infuriating and not surprising," not to mention "unethical"; at which point M.I.A. posted a covert recording of Hirschberg ordering the dreaded french fries; which led the intrepid Koblin to call Hirschberg back, asking for further comment. Which she then gave:

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Rad song too.

The Paper of Record's dedication to both safeguarding our sense of verbal decorum and giving shine to Toronto's finest proto-anarchist punk band is a lovely thing: The Times writes about Fucked Up a whole lot considering they'll only render the band's name as ********. (Examples here and here.) Been a while since this happened (with dismaying silence even after FU released the 2009 Canadian Album of the Year), but finally, over the weekend, a resurgence!

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​Like Courtney Love before her, M.I.A. has responded to a less than kind Lynn Hirschberg profile -- Love's in Vanity Fair and M.I.A.'s in this weekend's New York Times Magazine -- the only way she knows how: angry music. Love's band Hole had the bootleg "Bring Me the Head of Lynn Hirschberg," and now, via her blog, Maya comes with "I'm a Singer." (Sample lyric: "Why the hell would journalists be thick as shit/ Cause lies equals power equals politics" and later, "You're a racist/ I wouldn't trust you one bit.")

But this isn't just about politics; it's about honor. And french fries.

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