Performed by theipoetlaureate. Music produced by nomold.
Today’s blong here:
Performed by theipoetlaureate. Music produced by nomold.
Today’s blong here:
Feeling wistful at four. Sometimes you just have to get back up. Everything you do. Start. Middle. Finish. Complete the task. I’m somewhere in the middle. Of song blogging and life.
Happy birthday song blogging.
Chingy knows what time it is.
Performed by theipoetlaureate. Music produced by Dalama Jones. Lyrics here.
Today’s blong here:Not Finished
What did you expect from a year that ended in the number 13? Tasteful pop star performances and privacy on your cellular calls? 8, 20, 14, 17, 39 and 7 in the Mega Millions lottery? (If so, that’s a really, really specific set of expectations.)
I mean, it was never going to go well. It was numerologically cursed from the jump. And, true to form, it was a real stinker. For the president (NSA, Obamacare). For privacy (Eric Snowden, Facebook). For the Middle East (Syria, Egypt, Iran). For southern reality tv show stars (Paula Dean, Duck Dynasty). For victims (Sandy Hook, Trayvon Martin, Boston Marathoners, Colorado, Amanda Berry et al.). For truth telling (Manti Teo, twerking, Lance Armstrong). For pop stars. Actually, they had another really great year. (Cyrus, Macklemore, and Pope Francis)
For me. (Blonging was down 50% and my cats ran away)
But, the weird part about a year in review is how we like to try and puzzle together all of these unrelated stories into some coherent tale, Magnolia style. What was 2013 about?
But for those individuals, who comprise our news, the news story is their 2013. It’s not part of some bigger 12 month tapestry. George Zimmerman does’t know Ariel Castro. (Although we sure would have preferred he’d profiled him instead.) The “news” they lived was their life.
So, Michelle Knight won’t remember 2013 as the Year of the Big Hoax. “Silly Jimmy Kimmel!”
And, Eric Snowden won’t be making a slideshow of his Instagram Greatest Hits.
And, I’m doubting that Pope Francis is Obama’s Person of the Year.
They lived it.
And, so no matter what Time or CNN or MTV or Carson Daly or Twitter tells you, your 2013 wasn’t about Miley Cyrus or Mayor Rob Ford or rainbow looms or government shutdowns or even Mandela.
2013 was about your life. Your accomplishments. Your failures. Your accolade. Your scandal. And maybe that makes 2013 better or worse than were you to vicariously adopt the lives of complete strangers. But, at least it’s yours.
This year kids thought it was funny to try and “knockout” complete strangers. Here’s to a rash of unsuspecting assaults of affection in the new year.
Performed by ipoetlaureate. Music produced by fab da eclectic.
The year’s last blong here:Knockout 2013
The entire song anthology from this site’s third year of operation is now officially available here.
At 42 songs it’s notably shorter than it’s predecessors but no less news rappy. It includes smash hit blongs about deer antler spray, beef with an entire State, a lost cat, and a song about the Boston Marathon bombing called, “Pronation.” Get it? As in patriotic and the incline of your foot as you run. How do I keep coming up this stuff? Name me someone else who is doing this kind of work. Anyone.
To make it up to you for any perceived slight in length, the whole thing is downloadable for FREE. And, if that’s not enough, I’m also making available, for the first time ever, YEAR ONE and YEAR TWO for FREE, as well.
That’s 201 songs for nothing.
TWO. OH. ONE.
There are entire music careers with less inventory. I’m giving you a double Benjamin for nothing, in the twilight of mine.
All I’m asking is that you tell someone about rap news. Just one.
Now bandcamp will allow you to compensate me, however, as you see fit. And, if handsomely so, I will not decline. But, even a token payment is appreciated. Or nothing at all.
Thanks to the devoted followers of news rap. My press junkies. I’m tremendously blessed.
Somewhere right around here, I almost gave up on news rap. But, then I remembered that the world needed news rap, and I refused to quit or apologize for continuing to put news inside of rap. 3 years and counting.
To all my visitors, friends, family, followers, and fans, thank you.
Performed by theipoetlaureate. Music produced by Dalama Jones.
Today’s song blog here:No Goodbye and No Sorry
Not as in “on occasion” but for them — occasions. Apparently, I didn’t invent it.
I’ve been doing “occasional poetry” all along and had no idea there was a literary term for it. And, as one will note in the linked-to article above concerning the presidential poem delivered at this year’s inauguration, it suffers the same bias (as news blonging). Our subconcious or maybe concious expectations eschew hyper-topical poems, apparently. I guess we think that grandiosity and exceptionalism will be obscured by the practical detail of a story that is simply about right now or this year.
I also think that people aren’t looking in the right spot. I’ve heard, at run of the mill poetry slams, impressively topical and tactile work. They just aren’t invited to give innaugral addresses.
In addition to being topical and for “occasion,” my poetry has literally been only occasional, of late, as in not very regular. I really thought I was done there for a while. First, I was sad, and then I was relieved. Even when I had a free evening, I’d be like, “Nah, I probably should watch more Naked and Afraid” or “Ehhh, let me reverse the lens on my iphone camera and look at myself some more.”
In the interim, I was clearly missed as evidenced by the following excerpt. A dear and sensitive friend dropped me a note:
Joe, I thought of you when I was in Paris earlier this month. The suffusion of French youth culture with hip hop is now total. I saw kids walking around with pants around their knees, flat-brimmed baseball caps, and other accoutrement of that debased culture everywhere I went. It was just appalling. Our signature national export now appears to be the absolute worst element of American popular culture, a global pestilence that is infecting young people everywhere. It depressed me deeply.
See? What I do here matters.
But, my absence was not for no good reason. AKA for good reason.
I had to save an entire fish estuary. Ever heard of one? Me neither.
I had to watch Walking Dead Season 3. With a Zombie. (You might recall my wife is undead.) I’m sure you had the luxury of watching all 13 episodes with a fully alive spouse or significant other.
I had to record a whole new album. Ever done that? Didn’t think so. Shut it.
I had to prepare tax returns. You too? Whatever.
I had to coach my son’s little league baseball team. Sounds fun, right? Nope. We were the Royals.
I had to shovel 10 cubic yards of double ground mulch. What’s a cubic yard, you ask? No clue. Don’t care. All I know is that I didn’t see you out there.
I had to listen to hundreds of sports and news podcasts. Why would someone do that? Because they’ve quit on life.
Not to mention, my job, carpooling, lunch making, yelling senselessly at my children, Sunday School, and updating my ChristianMingle.com profile.
I’ve heard from many of you that you would have liked to hear my take on such and such. Well, tough noogies. Those matchless insights have been lost to eternity.
But, your boy’s back. (Well, except next week when I’ll be in NYC and two weeks after that when I’m at the beach. But, otherwise, I’m totally and completely back.)
Performed by ipoetlaureate. Music produced by Sundance.
Today’s blong here:Wouldn't You Like to Know
Apparently nothing is going to actually happen in 2013. For my annual predictions blong, I spared no traditional fortune telling method to learn the truth about the upcoming year. Scrying. Time travel. Palmistry. The coin flip. I shook the eightball. Adjusted the tinfoil hat (is that a thing?). Tuned the forks. Put dice in the mirror. Ate a bowl of lucky charms. Consulted the foreseeing abilities of small woodland animals. Spent the night at Stone Henge. Participated in the running of the bulls. Went to the Final Four in New Orleans (actually that was just to see the games). Nothing. I could only come up with like 3 or 4 real things to even make a guess about.
By the end, I was down to predicting the winner of the World Baseball Classic. Exactly. You don’t even know what that is.
No elections, like last year. Or terrorists at large, the year before. (And, yes, for new readers, I correctly foretold the assassination of Osama bin Laden in 2010. Not to mention snake bites somewhere in the world and an earthquake, again, somewhere in the known world.) While I’ve protectively guessed about natural disasters in the past to ensure at least a percentage threshold level of divining success, this year I was literally predicting the most basic elements of weather. Snow. Wind. That fire would be bright again this year.
Anyway, some things are for sure going to happen. I can guarantee you that.
As a humble aside, my iPredict 2012 delivered impressively again this year. Heat in 5 games (second year in a row predicting the NBA Finals winner down to the precise number of games). That the world would not end. (Eat it Mayans! Don’t trade arithmancy blows with the Master!) Within 4 of the number of total medals the U.S. would win at the Summer Games (Actual: 46 29 29 Predicted: 42 21 37). The growth of crops on farms. President Obama’s reelection. AND, that Manny Pacquiáo would get knocked out in the SIXTH round (it’s really a minor detail that I had Floyd Mayweather doing the out-knocking and not Juan Manuel Marquez). And, it’s unnecessary to revisit the relatively small and insignificant handful of near misses I had.
As always, I would make a DISCLAIMER: The ipoetlaureate does not condone or otherwise advocate the recreational use of divination, fortune telling, hokus pokus, or mumbo jumbo.
It is, however, my birthday on Monday and I will be in Las Vegas at the New Media Expo conference, where I will have presented on song blogging just the day before (January 6, 2013, 1:45 pm in Rio #4).
This might justify some light wagering. I was initially bummed to be away from my family on that day but then I remembered that I would be able to legally bet the NCAA National Championship game between Alabama and Notre Dame and watch it on a television the size of a KIA Sportage. Guilt assuaged.
With regards to today’s blong, I liked the thought that palm reading, or chiromancy, would confirm that the “future” is indeed in our hands, so to speak. We can either be a country and community willing to extend a helping, or losing-grip, one.
I know what I saw.
Performed by the ipoetlaureate. Music produced Dave Santos.
Today’s blong here:Eightballin' 2013 (Feeling Along)
So, as it turns out, there is no award show or other public recognition for great Blong (blog + song) performances each year. I know. I was surprised too. I assumed, of course, that I would certainly be under some serious consideration if there were. Imagine my disappointment. I’ve given it some thought, though, and I think there are a couple of reasonable justifications:
1. No one knows what a blong is. Doubtful, but an interesting theory.
2. I’m the only person in the world that blongs. Likely, but no reason not to recognize and trophy me.
3. People think blonging is stupid. Doubtful, because it’s plainly not.
4. People think blongs are illegal. Likely, because they are in four state jurisdictions. Plus, they seem suspicious. Like a Zima.
5. People are jealous of blongs. Likely. I am handsome and smart . . . err, they are.
6. “Blong” is a racial slur in Portugese. Unfortunately, this is actually true. It’s roughly translated “white devil” or “rowdy Asian” depending on the syntax.
7. Blongs created the financial cliff. Not true. They will, however, navigate it in a rubber intertube and refuse to share food stores. “You greedy son of gun, you, you blong!”
8. Blongs carry rabies. Not true. Glaucoma.
9. Blongs can put an eye out. True, but that’s why they should only be enjoyed with protective eye gear or a riot shield and under parental supervision.
10. Blongs hate dolphins. Come on. That’s just ridiculous.
11. Blongs hate porpoises. True.
12. Blongs do illicit drugs. Not since 10th grade and nothing heavier than the “Great White Steed.”
But, whatever the real reason, no organization or site has taken up the important task of recognizing greatness in the storied art of blonging. Consider the oversight rectified.
It is my privilege, therefore, to announce the 1st Annual Press Junkies, awarded for exceptional contributions in blonging and blong related enterprise. To avoid any conflicts of interest, the selection committee was chosen from the Blonging Academy, a distinguished and independent group of one individual with many years’ experience in blonging and blong adjudicating. The committee was tasked with reviewing every blong in the entire interwebs and known physical universe. He, errr, the committee evaluated all such blongs for content, accuracy, musical composition, steroid and PED usage, word choice, pain tolerance, viscosity, relevance, cadmium levels, awesomnivitimousness, punctuation, humidity, fast-twitch muscle fibers, cholera, concealed weapons, x-ray vision, durability, senility, vertical jump, ability to tolerate extreme temperatures, and invisibility.
And, the winners are:
1. Best Blong involving both Dick Clark and a Hologram of a Deceased Gangster Rapper
This category boasted an especially strong field of nominees. Including, “Dick and Pac” and, the imminently singable, “White People Watch American Bandstand, Black People Watch Soul Train.” But, the Press Junkie goes to . . .
Hologram Bandstand by the ipoetlaureate of The Press Junket
Really, really, really witty title. Dope beat. Holograms. A well-timed reference to a “funky phantasm.” Simply one of the best songs ever done about Dick Clark and a holographically projected Tupac Shakur. And, that’s saying something. There have been some classic ones.
2. Best Blong involving the Consumption of Human Flesh
A new category this year. Blongs about cannibalism and anthropophagy are certainly on the rise and the Academy wanted to recognize this growing field. This year’s winner set itself apart, however, by also cleverly incorporating romance with a zombie wife, a particularly poignant touch. I think we all would agree that there is almost nothing more touching than a bloody smile of teeth-shredded human flesh but this one was particularly moving:
Walking Dead by the ipoetlaureate of The Press Junket
3. Best Blong Involving Chaps and a Horse Whinny
You had me at African-American polo players:
A King’s Sport by the ipoetlaureate of The Press Junket
4. Best Economics Blong
But, I mention the rapper Lil’ Scrappy in The Capitol Gains and repeatedly confuse the Buffett Rule with a Shoney’s All-You-Can-Eat breakfast bar, so it takes the Junkie by a hair. (Also by the ipoetlaureate of The Press Junket.)
5. Best Presidential Campaign Blong
Seeing how it was an election year, there were many entries to consider for this category. Blongers in every poly-stringed corner of the multi-verse chronicled the epic electoral contest between President Obama and the Republican nominee, Mitt Romney. If there was one campaigning rap song this year, there must have been 1000. Maybe the most heavily blonged election in human history.
These few, however, stood out, in particular: The folksy tale of the Iowa Caucuses, Show of Hands; the fast-paced and breathless, Pitch Perfect; and the derision of Brendon Frazier and human cruelty, in Haircut.
But, the Junkie goes to the artsy, coffee shop ballad, Adults in the Room by the ipoetlaureate of The Press Junket. The Academy is committed to making sure that at least one blong that all “regular people” hate wins a Junkie each year. Congratulations to Adults in the Room.
6. Best Blong about Edible Transportation
Easy AND delicious:
One Gear by the ipoetlaureate of The Press Junket
7. Best Pro-Blood-Doping Blong or Blong otherwise about a Bicycle
This category came down to a song about curing hunger and the prior winner for Best Blong about Edible Transportation, One Gear, and Livestrong, a plea to inject the blood of protein rich animals into your veins.
As the former is philanthropic and the latter is a call to base and selfish cheating, I think it’s pretty clear who the winner is:
Livestrong by the ipoetlaureate of The Press Junket.
8. Best Sports Blong
Although the blongosphere covers a lot of real sport in blong every year, this year’s Sports Blong Junkie recipient goes to a blong about not-real sports. Namely, the Great American Pastime of conducting an online fantasy football draft. It wins for its duel threat of not-real sport trash talking and shameless self-promotion as the anthem for ESPN’s Fantasy Football Focus podcast show (which did not in fact make said blong the anthem for its show!).
Autodraft Beef by the ipoetlaureate of The Press Junket
Autodraft Beef narrowly beat out the fan favorite, Grace to Fail, a moving tribute to asians playing basketball. They’re so cute how they intellectually dribble and shoot like a karate punch. No song has been quite so important to sport since Eddie Rabbit’s convicting ballad about the secret world of dyslexia in indoor lacrosse, Read ’em and Weep.
9. Blong Music Producer of the Year
This year’s nominees include pumpkinFoot, djclutch, Sundance, and Dave Santos. There were numerous other contributors but these four individuals’ musical work repeatedly rose to the top when I needed it the most. This category is not about volume or usage but about impact.
10. Blonger of the Year
Blonger of the Year was maybe the most competitive category. It came down to me, my wife’s husband, the operator of my 3 Twitter accounts, one of my 14 rap aliases, my neighbor’s neighbor to the right, and me. All deserving nominees, of course. These individuals have worked tirelessly to provide us with some of the most important and groundbreaking blongs of the year. Me has been especially prolific but me should not be forgotten for his particularly elaborate body of work. Unfortunately, however, only one me can win.
This year’s Blonger of the Year recipient is a remarkable individual. He has won every possible Press Junkie category. He loves all of humanity exactly the same amount. He once nursed a baby meerkat back to life. And, he recently opened a not-for-profit, 24-hour Wendy’s Famous Hamburgers. He eats only naturally occurring, non-HMO grasses and paleolithic era protein bars and gels. His core temperature is love. He once recited the Preamble to the U.S. Constitution to school children in its native translation, Canadian.
And, this year’s Press Junkie Blonger of the Year is:
The ipoetlaureate!!! [Looks around frantically at the crowd and then hugs aforementioned wife. Covers mouth and shakes his head disbelievingly as he races to the front. Other me(s) congratulate me with a slap on the back as I pass by. Thanks God for making him the best blonger in the history of the world, thanks his wife and kids, and toasts the late Dave, father of Wendy and posthumous franchisor.]
11. Blong of the Year
The Academy’s selection committee was able to whittle down the list of potential Blong of the Year nominees to a manageable and competitive 78 (all of which can be yours today for the affordable retail of just $15).
But, one epitomized most perfectly the ethos of blonging: interesting and timely story, a clever take, stirring song, and jellyfish. At it’s core song blogging is about capturing disparate moments and making them common. And, sometimes the stars align to bring together multiple stories in a news cycle that make the same point, in the same poetic way. In a roughly 48-hour period this year, women were admitted to Augusta National and a 60+ year-old Diana Nyad made a fourth attempt to swim from Cuba to the coast of Florida. Both stories celebrated the strength of the human spirit and, particularly, the feminine resolve. One on land and one in the water. And, from those accounts came a song about the deadliest jellyfish in the world and the lowest glass ceiling, a tin cup:
This concludes the presentation of the 1st Annual Press Junkies. Next year, I promise a big name host, like Kid Rock or Kevin Bacon or Honey Boo Boo. Someone with real comedic edge and hosting chops. Maybe even like Madonna or Sinbad. We’ll see.
But, don’t click away. I still owe you a year-in-review blong.
So, among many choices, one of the most iconic images of the year was of Felix Baumgartner, moon-booted toes to the edge, moments before his suborbital jump.
He is quoted to have said, “I’m coming home.”
It’s a great juxtaposition. A radical trip to the edge of the sky, only to jump back home faster than the speed of sound. This and every year should be about such an outrageous leap of faith. But, one that rockets and propels us back to the beauty and relation and comfort and joys of our home and family and belief.
But, in flying we are always coming over something. A cliff or a cloud or a reputation or a tragedy. Another year over. We’ve got to get over.
We’ve got to get over to fly.
God Bless and Happy New Year.
Performed by ipoetlaureate. Music produced by Dave Santos.
Today’s blong here:Fallin' 2012
In the St. Nick of time, the entire 78 song anthology from this site’s second year of operation is now officially available for purchase here.
You might be saying to yourself, “Barbara, why would I ever need 78 news rap songs? I own a John Tesh box set already.”
Well, Barbara, I anticipated this riposte — less so the Tesh confession — and am prepared to offer some justifications:
1. Albeit by only a hair, YEAR TWO is still shorter and less self-absorbed than Peter Jackson’s “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Monopolization of Your Entire Evening.”
2. It’s only $15, an amount which, if spread over the entire time it actually took me to write, record, and publish these God-forsaken things, means I was making something like -$4 dollars an hour. And, in this economy, -$4 is nothing to sneeze at. There are a lot of people who would kill to be making negative money as opposed to no money at all.
3. Critically, Rolling Stones magazine has called it, “Something akin to anaphylactic shock. You can’t breath and you must have on your person, at all times while listening to any portion of the 78 songs, an EpiPen. Enjoy.”
4. If you buy it, I will give you a million dollars.
5. [The aforementioned tender of a million dollars does not, in any way, constitute an offer of unilateral contract. The ipoetlaureate would not pay anyone a million dollars in exchange for the $15 download of his new record. He does not possess a million dollars and he purposefully lied in hopes of securing a purchase from you. He remains hopeful that you might still fall for it.]
6. Songs about Jerry Sandusky and Kim Jung Il’s childhood and my wife, as a hypothetical zombie spouse, make for great work out inspiration. Like Chumbawamba’s Tubthumping and Snap’s I’ve Got the Power.
7. You will be able to know the future.
8. You will be immortal.
9. You might also bear a daughter named Renesmee upon whom your werewolf best friend will imprint. This will cause you much heartache but you will forever have the 78 news rap songs you purchased from me.
10. Finally, without your support, I will be forced to spend the large amounts of money I make from my other job, as an attorney, on the many superficial and extravagant Christmas gifts I’ve purchased for myself and my family this year. In other words: its for a really good cause.
So if you can, in good conscience, decline a fake offer of a million dollars, clairvoyance, immortality, and my families subsidized opulence, more power to you. But, that seems sort of selfish and short-sighted of you.
I am really lucky to have support for my work here at this site, in patronage and purse. Your purchase of these records helps me to expand my operations little by little, upgrading equipment or marketing the site. Even at two songs less than last year’s anthology, YEAR TWO seems twice in epic scale. The beats are diverse and fresh. I’m extremely grateful for my team of producers. And, because the whole enterprise is so personal for me, every crevice of the record is filled with memory and depth. Individually, the songs can be taken or left, but as an entire work start to finish, they reflect a year in the course of human events. And, to me, that’s all this was ever about.
Give the gift of rap news this season. They will never thank you later if you do. I promise.
All my regards.
Wait for it. Up through the ghoulish blue liquid the tiny icosahedrenal piece begins to settle against the plastic window. Appears to be “Outlook not so good.” Wait, or is that . . . “My sources say no”? With a wishful slight of hand I jostle the ball but can’t improve on “Better not tell you now.” I’ll take it.
Either this coming year is going to be pretty great or my Eightballin’ song is just kicking the can of bad news farther down the road. Like, it just doesn’t have the heart to tell you.
Regardless, it’s sort of hard to improve on some of the greatest soothsaying since Prince John was jilted out of his rings by the fox, Robin Hood, and the bear, Little John. My iPredict 2011 anticipated some of the seminal events in human history: snake bites, tornadoes . . . oh and a little thing called the Dallas Mavericks in 6. And, there was something else . . . hmmmmmm . . . what could it have been? Oh, that’s right the death of Osama bin Laden!
So, this year is sure to be a let down. I was going to predict an alien invasion but I couldn’t see clearly enough as to whether or not they would be hostile. And, I didn’t want to run the risk of my premonitional powers inadvertently calling down an extraterrestrial armageddon on us. And, I couldn’t think of any thing else really cool to predict, like an ice cream thunderstorm or a remake of Family Ties.
In the end, I just played it straight and predicted all the things that will actually happen this year. Important pugilist bouts (possibly from prison) and the summer games and the presidential election. You’re welcome. And, any ill-gotten wagering earnings from Intrade as a result of my recommendations should be made directly depositable into my PayPal account. (For those new to the site, no word is safe from my reckless, and heretofore never heard, conjugation of it.)
DISCLAIMER: The ipoetlaureate does not condone or otherwise advocate the recreational use of divination, fortune telling, hokus pokus, or mumbo jumbo.
In other news, it’s a pretty big day.
First, the Houston Chronicle won’t quit their sort of embarrassing infatuation with me. I mean a couple weeks ago they had this really fawning bit about my Tim Tebow song and now they’ve gone and put in actual printed ink this obsequious story that goes on and on and on about how great I am and how awesome and innovative and cutting-edge and revenue-generating and forward-thinking and ground-breaking and well-worded and muscle-building and small-animal-rescuing and the greatest-thing-ever this site is.
I almost didn’t want to tell you guys about it. I mean, I guess, if you wanted to link over to the website or drive to Houston itself to purchase 3 or 4 hundred copies of the in-print paper, just to laugh at the Chron’s obsession with me, then that would be cool. But, it’s all pretty pathetic if you ask me.
See what I mean:
Just to be nice, I suppose I could theoretically give a huge, ginormous thank you to Sketch the Journalist and his editor for doing such a flattering and complimentary and well-done piece on me. But, I don’t want to lead them on. So, I would never say anything like that. Sometimes a clean break is for the best.
Also, it’s my birthday on Saturday and me and my boy are going to see the Kentucky Wildcats at Rupp Arena (His Christmas present, not mine; I mean I’m making a pretty, pretty big sacrifice to have to watch the second best team in the country play my favorite college team on my birthday. But, that’s what you do when you’re a dad, I suppose.)
Lastly — uggh my fingernails have carpel tunnel — I was at this conference in Atlanta, earlier in the week, where a handful of college students raised a modest $3 million dollars in four days to fight human slavery worldwide. I’d like to say something typically snarky here to act cool for my blong readers, but I can’t. It was all just too emotional. Praise God.
I guess the only thing left is to rattle this eight ball and whisper encouragingly, “Will I finish my real job work tonight and get some sleep?
“Don’t count on it.”
Performed by the ipoetlaureate. Music produced pumpkinFoot.
Today’s song blog here:Eightballin' 2012