Why the World Will End Tomorrow

It's time to put this issue to rest.

To the general public- make sure there aren't any hard-earned dollars left in your bank accounts, and certainly don't look forward to finally getting that coveted festive sweater on Christmas morning, because come tomorrow, December 21st, it's over. Existence. Humanity. Life as we know it. No more morning coffees from the cute barista. No more long checkout lines at Walmart. No more Dick Clark New Years Eve specials.

No more anything.

Because look around you. Everything is aligned in a pattern that makes this so-called 'dooms day' inevitable.

Come on, now. We are in a world where Psy (I repeat...Psy) is the finest example of international icon. A world where blowhards like Lou Dobbs are handed mammoth platforms to spread their bullshit. A world where Lindsay Lohan, the universe's most destructive train wreck, has enough money under her coke-stained mattress to wipe out hunger and poverty.

And now that Manny Pacquiao has been knocked to the canvas and Sockington the Cat has accumulated nearly 1.5 million Twitter followers, the only thing that was formerly 'impossible' that hasn't come true yet is those darn Mayans being right about the end of days.

As for the 21st itself? It's the day that This is 40 will release, reminding us that Paul Rudd is happily employed and we aren't. It's the anniversary of Naismith's first basketball game, providing Stephen A. Smith with the grounds to utter the N-word on national television. And it's the day, 46 years ago, that Andy Dick escaped from his mother's womb directly into a Xanax addiction and mediocre acting career.

These recent sentiments of inexplicability can only be explained in the following fashion: They are signs, precursors perhaps, of our impending descent into the destructive demise of the human race. 

Adios.

Go Digital or Go Dark: Saving the Hollywood Theater

The iconic Hollywood Theater in Dormont is in danger of closing, and in order to stay open, they need a $75,000 digital projector. The solution can be found by utilizing independent media, specifically the concept of 'crowdfunding.'

For my final project in my Media and Society class, I explored this.

Watch, enjoy, and give feedback! It also wouldn't hurt to give a few dollars to the Hollywood Theater by visiting http://www.indiegogo.com/HollywoodGoDigitalOrGoDark.

Science Fiction

"Are you a virgin?"

"Yes."

I had to answer truthfully. You know, just in case Scarlet would ask me a followup question that would tear down my wall of lies.

She took a container of red lipstick and smeared a "V" across my forehead. In the background, I could see a man (or woman) dressed as an alien dancing to Joan Jett's "Bad Reputation." This was just seconds before Stamos sold us a bag of useless household items for $3.

Where the hell am I?

I had always known of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It was one of those things that I was told "you have to see before you die." And with Frankenstorm right around the corner, why wait any longer?

So there we were: my dad and I at the Hollywood Theater at midnight. I was dressed in all black because I wanted to blend in. He, on the other hand, wore a light blue flannel. Color. He'll regret it, I thought.

But it turns out he had seen the movie with a live cast before, so he had nothing to worry about. As for me, I could only pray the humiliation wouldn't be too unbearable.

"Virgins, stand up. Come up to the stage."

....Here we go.

I felt like Ralphie in A Christmas Story waiting for his dad to come home and punish him for fighting Scut Farkus. What's going to happen to me? Please, have mercy.

Thankfully, Stamos had mercy (like Uncle Jessie. Get it?). The virgins had to bend over while cast and audience members spanked them. I only got it once. Some girl said she got it six times.

When the hazing was over, I walked shamefully back to the sixth row and sat down, hoping the embarrassment would go away. The initiation was finished, and after a few inappropriate chants and "Halloween dance parties," it was time.

"Start the f*cking movie," the auditorium chanted.

From "Science Fiction/Double Feature" to "Time Warp," members of the Junior Chamber of Commerce Players acted out every part. Every motion. Every song. Every heartbeat of Rocky.

Heck, they even did a scene on top of us. No joke. Literally. An actor, an actress, and the spotlights. On top of us.

Seriously, the production was unlike anything I had ever seen before. The crowd participation was unbelievable. There were some who knew all the words and all the pauses, and had probably seen the show over 100 times.

As for me, I've seen it once. I doubt I'll ever enter the theater for a hundredth time, but who knows?

Now that the "V" has washed off my forehead, I understand that seeing Rocky is an experience like no other. Thankfully, the kind people at the Hollywood Theater show it every other Saturday night at midnight.

I will be there this weekend, but this time, without my virginity.

Sound and Image: Warhol's Screen Tests

On my way to the Food Bank this morning, I passed the Andy Warhol Museum. As others around me said things like "That looks interesting!" and "I want to go there soon, will anyone go with me?", I lightly chuckled. Warhol is all too familiar to me. When I see the museum's front doors and Andy's face in the gift shop window, my mind races a hundred thoughts per second. 

I think of my middle name, Andrew. I think of my parents, whose first date was at his grave site. I think of glaring at his face in the lobby during Duquesne orientation week, my first breath of real independence. 

I think of Dean and Britta.

"But Julian, why would Andy Warhol remind you of an indie pop duo from New York City?"

Because of the connection between sound and image.

This is one of the 13 Most Beautiful: Songs for Andy Warhol's Screen Tests. A video of Lou Reed drinking a bottle of Coke, shot by Warhol in 1966, is accompanied by Dean and Britta's "Not A Young Man Anymore." Warhol would film celebrities doing ordinary things, calling them "screen tests." Reed's is arguably the most iconic of them all.

The Warhol Museum approached Dean and Britta about recording a group of songs to accompany the screen tests in order to enhance aural pleasure. They succeeded, because now, the two go hand-in-hand.

The rougher clips, like Reed's (rebel shades, messy hair), are immortalized by rock n' roll power chords and Dean Wareham's scale solos. The more gentle images are given tender care by Britta Phillips' soft voice.

By mixing sound and image, Warhol's visual art is brought to life, while Dean and Britta's music enters a whole new realm of meaning and emotion.

All of the screen tests can be found on Youtube, but for a more personal experience, Dean and Britta are bringing the 13 Most Beautiful to the Warhol Museum's theater on November 8th. You can purchase tickets here: http://www.warhol.org/webcalendar/event.aspx?id=6966

One Single, Lonely Screen

1449 Potomac Ave. Dormont's Hollywood Theater. Circa 1933.

It's not just a theater. It's a landmark.

Enter through the front doors and you'll be greeted by a smiling clerk, the gateway to a night of endless popcorn joy. Yell out your favorite movie lines and you'll be eagerly accepted rather than arrogantly shushed. Crowd the balcony rows with your best buddies and you'll have a night to remember.

But one thing you won't see: a line of people experiencing the same thing. At least not anymore.

My father, who worked at the theater from 1988 to 1990, saw the theater when it was in its finest state. He grew up in Dormont in a time when the Hollywood was the area's social center. It was always crowded. It was always playing first-run movies. It was the perfect place to go to hook up with friends and catch a movie.

"It had a neighborhood charm to it," says my dad. "There were three movie theaters within walking distance, and they were all single-screen movie theaters. That was the day of neighborhood movie theaters."

Oh, how things have changed. 

Now, neighborhood charm doesn't matter one bit. Jared Lanier, a computer programmer recognized as the father of virtual reality technology, proposes that convenience is a consumer's main priority, and that this will bring movie theaters to the antiquity stage.

"As for theaters, I wish them a long, healthy continued life, but imagine a world in which a superb fifty-dollar projector can be set up anywhere, in the woods or at the beach, and generate as good an experience. This is the world we will live in within a decade," Lanier writes in his manifesto, You Are Not A Gadget. 

So how does a single-screen movie theater like the Hollywood survive in the digital age? Sadly, it can't. The only thing that is keeping the theater open is the Friends of the Hollywood Theater (FOHT), a group of volunteers who have put incredible amounts of time and money into maintenance. 

Recently, the Hollywood Theater made an appearance in The Perks of Being a Wallflower, a movie shot in Pittsburgh. The film's characters participate in a lively showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, a cult flick frequently shown in the theater.



In the scene, the theater is packed, and rightfully so (the movie takes place in the '80s.) It makes me sad. My dad says the place used to have energy.

Not anymore.

In a few years, people will pass the vacant Hollywood Theater and say, "I remember." Ironically, those will probably be the same people who have Netflix subscriptions and BitTorrent accounts. You know, the evil creatures that are putting iconic theaters out of business.

For now, enjoy it while it's here. Pick up your girlfriend, park on Potomac, grab some popcorn, and cherish the mystique before it's gone.

Page One: An Aspiring Journalist's Response

After watching Page One: Inside the New York Times, the part inside of me that channels my journalistic aspirations took a punch. Since I started telling people my dreams to become a professional journalist, I can't count how many times the person on the listening end has given me that look; the look that says "Do you really know what you're getting into?". The look that says "You're doomed, kid."

I'm here to tell you that I sincerely believe the industry isn't dead. Page One conveys most of its shock through a startling set of quotes. By picking apart these quotes and looking for contradictions, I've discovered several instances of faulty knowledge that will suggest that the documentary overdramatizes the downfall of modern investigative journalism.

Here are two quotes that I find especially misinterpreted:

"Advertising market has turned upside down and the revenue has taken a hit." - Is this honestly as bad as it sounds? As the demand for advertising in print media rapidly declines, the demand for online advertising has risen dramatically. A change in mediums doesn't necessarily mean a change in the way advertising revenue is gained. Take a look at this screenshot I took of the Times' front page:

Notice the array of advertisements. In a single window, you can see ads for Marc Jacobs Eyewear, Times' Digital Subscriptions, Orange Savings Account, and Ameritrade. It's impossible to point to a decrease in advertisement revenue when the paper's front page is nearly half ad space. 

"And people will start asking, can we really trust The Times?" - I don't think anyone would even consider that question. Just yesterday, an Iran newspaper ran a news story from The Onion, believing it to be credible. Seriously? If someone, somewhere believes The Onion, then The Times has nothing to worry about. The Times is still the most reputable media outlet in the United States, and I find it hard to believe that anything will change that. 

"Experts" shouldn't be pushing aspiring journalists away from the industry. The rise in technology might make print newspaper less and less relevant, but that does not equate to the demise of journalism as a whole.

Maybe I am just defending my industry because I'm scared. Or maybe I am defending my industry because it's not dying.

Maybe it's only just begun.

A Life Worth Living

*This is a reflection paper I wrote for my Economics class at Duquesne University. I put this together after volunteering at Greater Pittsburgh Community Food Bank on Saturday. As a member of the Ratio learning community, I am required to do this twice, once in Southside and once in Northside. Then, after the service, I will work with my community to propose solutions to the problems facing the food bank, specifically regarding their additional services.*

When I left the Greater Pittsburgh Community Food Bank on Saturday, I can’t exactly comprehend what I was feeling. One thing’s for sure; it was an odd mixture of overwhelming satisfaction and humbling sadness.

It’s unbelievably satisfying lending my time to helping those less fortunate. In high school, I would do little activities like bingo and library assistance, but nothing that had such a significant impact on people. The few hours we spent at the food bank were extremely personal. I actually got to have quick conversations with each and every person I was assisting.

As we were walking back to the line area, an older woman bumped her cart into a crack in the cement and all of her food scattered across the ground. She shrugged, smiled, and proceeded to retrieve her food (of course, we helped). That’s where the humbling sadness comes in.

These people have been through everything to end up with nothing. This woman ignores the negativity because it comes naturally to her. What kind of world have we built that lets this happen?

Before we walked to Southside, I stopped at Brueggers for an iced coffee. A seemingly unimportant event? Absolutely not. Thinking about it, I understand that I am blessed to have options. If I wanted a bagel with my coffee, there would be nothing stopping me.

It makes me feel like a bad person. It makes me want to give everything I have inside of me to helping those people on Saturday. I appreciate everything in my life. God, I wish everyone could be worry-free.

Going into Saturday’s volunteering, I fully expected to be disgusted at how ungrateful some of these people receiving the food are. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Everyone smiled. Everyone hoped. Everyone thanked.

I now realize that the ungrateful ones are us, the fortunate. I now realize that nothing breaks my heart more than seeing a child hold his mother’s hand while she gratefully accepts food from charitable hands.

If I could do this every day, I would. I absolutely loved helping out at the food bank. Nothing is more gratifying. But at the same time, I loathe selfishness. We are all on this Earth together. We are only as strong as our weakest. Why doesn’t anyone understand?

Songs of the Week #4

I have an unbelievable amount of work to do tonight, but I care about you so much that I will push that to the side for a moment to give you this week's songs.

Am I ready for the week ahead? No. There's too much to do and almost no time.

Am I excited for it? Absolutely. On Thursday, I'll have my very first article in The Duke. My very first college byline. Another milestone in the long, difficult path to achieving my dreams. Actually, the second "milestone" in the month of September. Last week, writer Jeff Pearlman (Sweetness: The Enigmatic Life of Walter Payton) complimented my work, specifically the short Steve Bartman column I penned for Media class.

That's when I realized: maybe, just maybe, the dream I've chosen isn't too unrealistic. Maybe I won't need a prayer to make this happen.

Sorry to ramble. You're just here for some kickin' tunes.

1. "Sad Sad City" by Ghostland Observatory. Sometimes, I think about strapping a bag to my back and hitchhiking to Austin, Texas. Every band I've ever raved about, seemingly, has roots in the Live Music Capital of the World. Add Ghostland Observatory to the already-extensive list. "Sad Sad City" combines the vocal range of The Limousines with the drums of every dance floor rock song ever made. Very catchy.



2. "Burn It All" by The Dean's List. I don't enjoy Lil Wayne, I barely find Wiz Khalifa appealing, and I hate cliche rap songs about drugs and partying (yes, I'm one of those "losers"). But "Burn It All" never stops putting a smile on my face. Does anyone know why? Perhaps it's because of the mesmerizing piano loop. "If this the good life, I'm aimin for a better one. You shootin for the stars, boy? You gon' need a better gun." Right?



3. "Gimme Sympathy" by Metric. Female vocalists...yummy. I'll admit, I was extremely naive in thinking that "Help, I'm Alive" was Metric's only good song. Listening to their discography this past week has been extremely enjoyable. "Gimme Sympathy" is now my favorite song that has the word "gimme" in it ("Gimme" by Donnis has been dethroned).

Songs of the Week #3

I'm a little sick right now, so bear with me. If this was a video blog, you would be very annoyed by my constant sniffles and coughs.

But it's not, so good evening friends. Did you enjoy that Steelers' win? I sure did. I wish I could say the same about the Pirates. I get to see them play the Brewers on Tuesday night, but at this point, I'd trade the tickets for a dime-bag of mixed salad greens, a box of toothpicks, and a broken-down shoebox.

No, seriously. I'm taking offers.

This week's songs feature an array of genres (as always), but with a similar, familiar sound: whistling.

1. "Young Folks" by Peter Bjorn and John. I heard this song years ago, around the same time I loved "Galvanize" by The Chemical Brothers and Green Day's version of "Working Class Hero." I will never stop whistling along, that's for sure. Peter Moren's vocals are like Brian Aubert's from Silversun Pickups: strange, but emotionally sensational.

2. "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. Going to see one of their shows has to be similar to watching a gang of hardcore hippies dance around a fire. Now give those hippies an acoustic guitar, a woman with one hell of a voice, and the ability to whistle; I bet they'll play this song. "Home is wherever I'm with you."

3. "Black Mr. Rogers" by Zeale. Fred Rogers was born in Latrobe, Pennsylvania. Zeale was in Pittsburgh on Thursday with Awolnation. Any connection? I don't think so. With that being said, @zeale (Twitter shout-out) spits his finest Texas verses over repeated whistles. He even throws in a JFK reference. What's not to love?

How the Media Ruined Steve Bartman's Life

It's been almost nine years since the incident.

The Cubs were playing the Marlins at Wrigley Field. It was the sixth game of the National League Championship Series, and Chicago fans were growing restless; restless of the green ivy in left field, restless of being the league's laughing stock, and restless of saying "maybe next year."

If something or someone was going to ruin their chances at winning a title, it wasn't going to end well for the offender. In this case, that "someone" was Steve Bartman.



Did he want to be the entire city's scapegoat? No. He did what every baseball fan would have done in that situation: he reached for a foul ball. It's almost instinctive. It's almost normal.

That's what the play should have been considered: normal. But instead, Bartman hasn't been seen in almost a decade. He didn't just buy a fake mustache from a gag store. He must have changed his name. He must have altered his identity, starting from scratch.

This could have been prevented.

Right after Bartman "stole" the ball out of the air from Moises Alou, ESPN violated the basic moral, unwritten rules of journalism. Even I, a freshman journalism student at Duquesne University, know that it's improper to victimize a fan. Instead of getting back to the action on the field, the station repeatedly flashed images of Bartman's face on the broadcast, allowing Cubs' fans to sharpen their pitchforks with a clear target in mind.

Instead of scrutinizing the Cubs' bullpen and defense for lack of effort, the media demonized Bartman, portraying him as the only reason the team failed to make it to the World Series again.

Now, nearly a century of mediocre baseball can be summarized by one man's face:

I don't blame Steve Bartman one bit for disappearing. If the media is against you, the viewers are against you. It's as simple as that. In this case, the viewers are a ruthless bunch of rough-and-tough Chicagoans; a symbol for hatred, a symbol for intolerance.

And who has led the movement to bring Steve into the public light again? Who has relentlessly begged for an interview? Who will cash in on his words? The media.

Bartman doesn't owe the media anything.

Songs of the Week #2

I can't believe tomorrow is September 10th. Football season is under way, baseball season is almost over, and Halloween isn't too far away. Oh, and Julian Routh is in his third week of college. Yes, college, and yes, I'm Julian Routh.

This week will be exhausting. Tuesday, I'll be on campus until nine for The Duke (Duquesne's student newspaper.) Wednesday, I'll be shadowing my sports editor at the men's soccer game until late hours of the evening. Thursday, I'll be at Altar Bar seeing Awolnation and Imagine Dragons with my buddy.

Did I mention that homework is piling up? I hate to say it, but that's the last of my worries.

Here are three songs to put on your IPod for the week ahead:

1. "No Faith in Brooklyn" by Hoodie Allen. Who is 23 years old, a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, and a mesmerizing lyricist capable of captivating the masses with catchy pop verses? Hoodie Allen. This track should be illegal, considering every time I hum the chorus, I want to punch someone in the face. Such a good song, powered by clever lines and fueled by an overly-simplistic piano progression.


 2. "I'm Just Me" by Diamond Rings. One of those new-age jams with 80s-esque verses and loud, moshpit choruses. I'm impressed with how well this band can perfect a sound, and I'm shocked that this song hasn't been used on movie trailers. The lead singer looks like the frontman for Empire of the Sun, so they can't be all that bad, ey? I'll take full credit for this one. You're welcome, 105.9.


 3. "Penitentiary" by Houndmouth. In the past year, the charts have been overtaken by folk-inspired bands like Mumford and Sons and The Lumineers, and I must say, I have no idea why. That doesn't mean songs like "Penitentiary" shouldn't be popular, because Houndmouth has that Johnny Cash vibe that artists struggle to find.

Small Ball: Yankees must resort to basics

There's never a day when Yankees and Red Sox fans can sympathize with each other, but with the baseball gods as my witness, today is one of those special occasions.

Maybe 'sympathize' is a bad word. Perhaps relate is more suitable. Because let's face it, the Bombers' late August, early September collapse in the AL East looks a lot like last year's Red Sox cataclysm. 

As a Yankee fan, it's hard to digest the past few weeks. I'm not suggesting we storm the clubhouse and rummage for buckets of fried chicken and cases of Bud Light, but it might be time to re-examine the way the team has been coached this year. 

One of my professors at Duquesne, when speaking about our poor reading strategies, told our class, "those techniques might have worked in high school, but here, you won't have a chance." I'd like to tell Joe Girardi the same thing, but in regards to the team's "swing for the fences" mentality.

Yes, relying on unmitigated home run power can work for a few months, but it won't carry the squad to the playoffs.

Where's that simple, hit-and-run style of Charlie Manuel's championship-winning Phillies teams? Where's that Joe Torre-esque small ball that the Yankees utilized during the dynasty years? Nowhere to be found.

The Yankees have 27 more games to play, beginning with tonight's series finale against the Rays. If the last two nights are of any indication, tonight needs to be an explosive offensive showing from the Bombers, especially from the heart of the lineup (Granderson, Swisher, and Cano.) The bullpen has been progressively more unreliable, assuring that no lead is big enough.

Tonight is the night to get back on track. One game at a time, boys. One hit at a time, even if the ball doesn't clear the fence. 

Songs of the Week #1

School is in full swing. I'm in college now. Can you believe it? From experience, it's always good to have music to listen to in between classes. And for me, classes are separated by hours. So here are a few tracks to get you through the week.

(Okay, you caught me, it's actually going to be Tuesday tomorrow. The week has already started, but who's keeping track?)

1. "Remember Who You Are" by Living Legends. Fast verses with mesmerizing piano accompaniment. A positive message from some of the country's finest verse-spitters. "If you feel it, then love it."


2. "Thrift Shop" by Macklemore. If you have been around me at all the past few days, you know I'm crazy about this song. With a witty set of lyrics and a groovy beat, Macklemore knows how to bring a smile to your face over and over again. Goal for the week: make it to a thrift store.


3. "Headlights" by Morning Parade. I'm not sure what kind of emotions I'm supposed to feel while listening to this. The verses are sad, the chorus is enlightening, and the instrumentation is powerful. Oh well, it's good for walking far distances. I pop it on during the 10-minute gap between Psych and Writing on MWF.

Breaking a World Record: Street Light Interview

I don't know how it feels to break a world record. To be honest, I think I can eliminate all hopes of ever considering trying.

Now that that's been said, I got the privilege to speak a few words with Street Light, the rapper from Detroit who recently shattered the world record for longest freestyle rap. If you haven't seen it yet, it's incredible. I don't expect you to watch it in its entirety (you could watch yesterday's 19-inning Pirate game twice in the same amount of time), but a few verses won't hurt.


Even with his busy schedule, Street Light stopped by dentedfretboard.com to answer a few questions.

Q- What an accomplishment. How does it feel to have a world record under your belt?
A- It feels great! A bit surreal, even.

Q- I can't even spit two sentences with rhymes. What were you thinking during the freestyle and what kept you going?
A- I freestyle a lot, and it has become sort of a subconscious thing for me. I know that I'm rhyming, but my mind was focusing on topics, creativity, and trying not to repeat anything.

Q- What does your record prove about you?
A- I think the record just proves that I will give 100% to anything my mind is made up about. My determination and willpower have proven to be some of my strongest assets.

Q- Break a world record- done. What's next for you?
A- Next up: MIXTAPES & EP! Stay tuned.

Visit his website at www.streetxlight.com, follow him on Twitter @streetxlight, and be sure to like him on Facebook and grab his upcoming mixtapes! Congratulations on a once-in-a-lifetime accomplishment.

One Night in Latrobe: My Experiences at Steelers Camp

"Latrobe, PA; approximately 40 miles southeast of downtown Pittsburgh. The home of Rolling Rock beer, legendary golfer Arnold Palmer and TV's soft-spoken Fred Rogers from Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. In the center sits Latrobe Memorial Stadium, which becomes Steeler Nation's center of attention for one night every year. Ladies and gentleman, all aboard the black-and-gold train. Destination: the Pittsburgh Steelers' annual night practice."

That's from a piece I wrote last year around this time for Patch. This year, I didn't feel like writing another interesting introduction, so let me get into it. Today, I attended the official night practice of the Pittsburgh Steelers. There was no shirtless Tebow, no shoulderless Peyton..just a father and his two sons enjoying the heat by taking in some football.

We almost didn't make it in time for 7:00, which is when the heap of black-and-gold players exit the big yellow school buses and take the field. For fifteen minutes, each Steeler player heads to a different part of the fence (surrounding the field) and signs autos for fans. I had the pleasure of chasing down Big Ben Roethlisberger. Well, let me rephrase that. It wasn't exactly pleasure. It was pain. Lots and lots of pain. After sliding between a record-breaking crowd and slamming myself into a pile of sweaty Steelers' fans, I got to add this beauty to my collection:

Beautiful signature on a glossy 8x10 I picked up at a mall outside of Latrobe. I think this is my fourth Roethlisberger autograph, but the first on a picture. With five minutes left, in a scene of clutch heroics, I got tight end Heath Miller to sign this for me:

As for practice, a few notes. First, if Ben has a torn rotator cuff, it sure doesn't look like it. He was throwing the ball accurately with ease, even placing one into a trash can from fifteen yards away (which resulted in some huge cheers from the crowd). Second, even though coach Tomlin doesn't allow goal-line drills, it was getting extremely physical during scrimmage. Apparently, after we left, Willie Colon and Cameron Heyward "fought." I'd love to see some video. And third, I have a few guesses on who won't have a roster spot come season time: WR Jimmy Young, WR Toney Clemons, and S Robert Golden. They made some sloppy plays out there tonight.

But anyways, it was my brother's first training camp, so here's a shoutout buddy! Go Steelers!

Local Mic #1: TeeJay

Hey y'all. Today, i'm introducing the first new series of posts. This one's called "Local Mic," profiling artists, bands, and rappers from Pittsburgh, PA and the surrounding area. If you want to be spotlighted, contact me at jrouth22@hotmail.com or tweet me @DentedFretboard. Be sure to share a video with me and some information!

The first one takes the mic in Fox Chapel, and he goes by the name of TeeJay. His new video, a combo of an original called "You Don't Know" and a freestyle of Tyler the Creator's "Yonkers," is racking up views already. Very well done video. Shot and edited by Marcus Williams and True Stacks. Stay tuned on his channel for another video coming soon, which is still in production.

Welcome to the New Age

I didn't think I'd have to introduce myself again, but guess what? I officially have my own website. Notice how you didn't have to type ".blogspot.com" anymore? You probably didn't. Because I am not that popular...yet. My name is Julian, and this Dented Fretboard, a blog I created awhile back to vent. But now, it's the new age. A new age for me. Maybe it's because i'll be in college soon. Maybe it's because I want to bring something interesting to the table. I would bookmark this website right now if I were you. Every time you come to this website, you will see something new and innovative; whether it's interviews with hot upcoming artists, honest reviews, or interesting commentary, you'll want to see this. Welcome to the new age. BIG article coming this week, so stay tuned. Check out this kid, straight from Arizona: