From July 9th through 12th, the third annual Rocklahoma Music Festival will take place in Pryor, Oklahoma.  Check out some of the acts making an appearance at this year’s event.
Anthrax |  RATT  |  Night Ranger  |  Warrant  |  Stryper  |  Thin Lizzy  |  Twisted Sister  |  Skid Row  |  Great White  |  Nelson
I’ll tell you what, I have a hunch that this may be the trashiest event in Oklahoma history.  Just check out the photos from previous festivals.  It makes the State Fair look like the Oklahoma City Golf and Country Club Debutante Ball.  Seriously, you could give me $1,000 and put me in one of those radioactive suits that that bad guys in E.T. wear and I wouldn’t get within 50 miles of Rocklahoma.   Instead of selling hemp bracelets, they probably sell necklaces made from leftover meth supplies.  Hell, I bet that even the Syphilis and Chlamydia viruses bacterias are scared to use the port-o-pottys.
Anyway, to help make this festival even easier to mock and ridicule, the promoters have created a Miss Rocklahoma pageant.  From the Rocklahoma website:
These top ten ladies represent what we feel Rocklahoma is all about. This contest is not just about beauty and sexuality, but about an energizing, fun loving and outgoing individual who truly encapsulates the spirit of Rocklahoma. The winner will be the ambassador of Rocklahoma 2009.
Let me translate this for you:  this pageant isn’t about looks…it’s about who will show their t*ts on stage and maybe f*ck one of the Nelson brothers.  So I guess it’s kind of like “Rock of Love”…only worse.  Check out our rankings of the Top 10 Miss Rocklahoma finalists after the jump:
(Update: We had to edit one of the descriptions.  Sorry.)

When I saw that Jessica Alba was in Tulsa Monday filming her new direct-to-DVD movie, The Killer Inside Me, my first thought was, “oh, porn,” followed by “I hope she doesn’t vandalize us.”  Then I remembered that unlike Oklahoma City, Tulsa has sharks.  We have the Oklahoma Aquarium, a possible Alba target.
Vandalism doesn’t worry me; it’s liberated sharks and Tulsa’s effect on movies.  Movies filmed in Tulsa are never good.  Check out UHF.
Alba’s a bigger threat to Tulsa than many realize.  Since the only precaution to her visit is extra police on the movie set, I felt I should take action.
I called the Oklahoma Aquarium and asked if they added extra security.  They declined to answer as in they hung up on me.  I don’t think they took the threat seriously.
What they don’t realize is Alba is a good swimmer and can possibly turn invisible.  You thought the special effects in Fantastic 4 were computer graphics?  Me too, but I don’t want to risk the trauma of seeing sharks float through the air as an invisible Jessica Alba carries them to the Arkansas River.
If you see sharks flopping around in the three-inch deep water of the Arkansas River, I warned you.
If you want to see The Killer Inside Me, it’s coming to a Redbox near you.
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(P.S.  Now for baseball news:  Solutions for Drillers Stadium.)

Eight years ago this month, my wife and I, fresh out of college, naively chose to spend our lives in holy matrimony.  Little did we know that heterosexual marriage was rapidly becoming a thing of the past.
It started when Governor Howard Dean of Vermont signed the nation’s first “civil unions” bill that opened up the institution of getting hitched to anyone with the rights to enter into a contract.  I was initially scared that Mrs. Matthews would move to Vermont and switch to the other team, but my fears were alleviated when I remembered the “Defensive of Marriage Act” that was sponsored by Oklahoma representative Steve Largent and signed by the pillar of traditional marriage, President Bill Clinton.  Our marriage was safe.
Then things began to change.  The Massachusetts Supreme Court declared it against the state constitution to deny marriage rights based on sexual preference.  Within a few years, several other states–apparently missing the tidal wave of ballot issues banning gay marriage–started opening up the option of each person marrying a man or woman based entirely on their own discretion.  Among the state were liberal bastions like New Hampshire, Connecticut, Maine, and Iowa.
Obviously, I started to get very afraid.  Certainly the only thing keeping Mrs. Matthews tied to me was the state’s blessing that she had to be married to a man.  Luckily, the wise voters of this state voted overwhelmingly to keep such a reprehensible thing like two people in a loving, committed relationship vowing to stay together from ever being blessed in this state from happening in 2004.
Then, I read this week in The Gazette that openly gay minister Reverend Dr. Scott Jones had discovered a loophole.  He was married to his boyfriend within state lines and the police could do nothing to stop them.  How?  He just said (I’m paraphrasing here), “screw what the state thinks, I’ll just get married in the eyes of God.”  Huh-what?!?

Obviously, we had to go with an MJ song for this morning’s video.  Unfortunately, we had to go with one from the 1990’s…the decade where the quality of his songs slipped and he went from being the “King of Pop” to the “King of Little Boys.”
After little debate, we went with perhaps his most infamous video, “Black or White.”   I actually remember watching the world premier of this video.  I think it was a Sunday night, and my grandparents came over to my parent’s house for Sunday dinner.  After probably eating some pot roast, my family and I watched the video together in the living room.  Can you imagine anything like that happening today?  First off, music videos are dead, so any major network featuring one on prime time will never happen. Secondly, I don’t think there is a performer out there today who could engage the interest of a 13-year-old boy, 40-something parents, and 60-something grandparents.  Also, now that cable and satellite has taken over, we probably would have found something better to watch.
Anyway, this video is totally early 1990’s.  It features Norm from Cheers, Macaulay Culkin, and now cheesy special effects that were once cutting edge.  It also features crotch grabbing, well time screams, and some dance moves that Clark Matthews still tries to master when he goes to Groovy’s.  Rest in peace, Michael.

Well kids, I think today’s going to be different. You know why? Because it’s the first day of my life that I’ve awoken knowing that I’m no longer on the same planet as Michael Jackson. I was born in 1976, so MJ had a pretty big role in my childhood. In lieu of his passing and my unsettling devotion to his early career, I’ve decided to only do three events today in order to talk about Mr. Jackson a bit while staying under my 1,500 word limit. Some day I’ll work my way up to 8,000 like Clark Matthews did. Until then, this is all you’ll get. But it’s another rare display of sincerity in which I’ll actually attempt to be thoughtful and honest, but I’ll probably just end up with my thumb up my ass again. Oh well.
When Thriller came out, I was 6 years old. The next year, my parents divorced and my mom, sister and I moved into a smaller house across town. We soon converted the garage into a typical playroom for me and my sis, who was 5 at the time. No kids’ playroom in the 80s was complete without a Fisher Price record player. Ours was the first item added to the new room, but shortly thereafter, we added Thriller. I don’t know whose idea it was, or who bought it, but it was the first record I ever owned, loved or memorized. There was no going back. I was a 7 year old terminally caucasian boy from a small town in Oklahoma, but in my carpeted garage, I was Michael effing Jackson. I was serious about this. I owned a white glove. But more importantly, I owned one of these. It was out of control. In spite of the years of terror pangs and paranoia it may have provided, the Thriller video remains one of the most vivid reminders of my childhood. That shit was scurry, man! I was quite relieved when MTV finally showed the “making of” special, so I could tell myself that those were humans after all, and finally know it to be true. But still I loved it. No, listen: I LOVED IT. But it went beyond the videos and the songs. The entire world loved Michael for being a genuinely kind, caring human and possessing talents that rendered lots of folks dizzy when in his presence. They were mostly ladies. Michael Jackson was the 80s, and myself and all the other kids of the 80s who grew up idolizing him have felt a lot of collective heartbreak over the fiery nosedive his life took. Nose joke. Naturally, having grown up with him, I prefer this Michael to this one. Nobody seems to be sure what really turned him so “crazy”, but I can tell you that singing love songs for grown women when you’re 12–and sending them out of their damn minds in the process–will warp any kid. There’s no reason to focus on the negatives of his life now, because the positives outweigh them by a zillion tons. He changed music. He sure as shit changed music television. I just wish that doing so wouldn’t have changed him as much as it did. That’s one of the biggest “What if?” questions in the history of popular music. You never know with questions like that. “What if Michael Jackson hadn’t lost it?” “What if Hendrix had fallen asleep on his stomach that night?” “What if Courtney Love hadn’t shot Tupac and Biggie?” Don’t worry yourself over such things. Just put on your zippery jacket, your favorite MJ album, close your eyes and moonwalk. Just ask Michael for help. He can hear you. Because he’s in your closet. This week’s meme: RIFPMJ, which I invented, just now. On to the weekend.

PHOTO COURTESY OF DAILYTHUNDER.COM
(As I have done the past three years–see here, here, and here–tonight I will let you have a peek into my basketball obsessive mind as I watch the NBA Draft.  Before you go to the comments section to point out that this bit is a rip-off of The Columnist Who Shall Not Be Named, I’m fully aware of that.  The difference is that, as a resident of Oklahoma City, my input will be flavored by interest in the Thunder and will not reference the Boston Celtics with every entry.  Also, as an added twist, this year’s diary will be blogged live, so check back regularly.  Then come back tomorrow to see it prettied up.)
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11:57: This morning, when I first checked my twitter feed, the following quote was staring at me:
How duz Mark Jackson know anything.  I hate a expert that hasn’t mastered anything, be credible if you want credibility.
~ Shaquille O’Neal
This was a great start to Draft Day 2009.  You see, for years, I have been watching the NBA Draft and being upset that I tended to agree with the analysis of loudmouth talker Stephen A. Smith.  In the past year, ESPN ditched him and tonight we will be bombarded by the opinions of Jeff Van Gundy–the person who best represents everything that was wrong with the NBA during the 1990’s–and his protoge and former point guard, Mark Jackson.
It’s bad enough that ESPN has ruined games for me by putting those two in at color commentary where they bemoan how the game is too pretty and watchable these days.  Now, they will be giving their two cents on whether teams made the correct choice at the draft, and their criteria will likely involve whether the player is old school enough.
Odds are, I’ll live.
_______________________

By now you’ve probably read or talked or tweeted about this.  If not, go steal a bologna sandwich or something.
From The Smoking Gun:
Meet Lahoma Sue Smith.  The Oklahoma woman, 36, copped a plea last week to a prostitution charge for accepting a box of Frito-Lay chips in exchange for oral sex. According to the below Oklahoma City Police Department report, john Faron Jonhson[sic] told cops that he informed Smith that he did not have any money, but that she “agreed to give him a ‘blow job’ meaning oral sex, for a box of chips.”  Johnson, a Frito-Lay employee, provided Smith with a case of chips he valued at $30.
We kind of  asked this rhetorical question in a Tweet earlier yesterday, but I wonder what would have happened if the guy offered Lahoma some Hormel chili, cheddar cheese and diced onions?  Do you think he would have hit a home run?

Anyway, somehow this news has caused a minor controversy.  Apparently, some people don’t like the fact that the prostitute was arrested, yet the one who used her…uhm..services got away without charges.  They tend to think it’s a double standard.  From the Joke:

A police spokesman said the man (Faron Johnson) was not arrested based on “officer discretion.”
I have a theory as to how he got out of being charged.  Lets see, the guy just gave the women in the picture above a box of chips for a blow job.  Knowing that, imagine how many chips he would give away to avoid jail time!  If I were a betting man, I’d say that there’s a good chance that some OKCPD cop offered to bring some Fritos and Wavy Lays to next weekend’s 4th of July cookout.
Also, let me go ahead and say that I don’t think either individual should have gotten in trouble.  If you think about it, all they did was enter into a verbal agreement where the guy promised to provide food in return for some sexual favors.  Normal people do that all the time, only we call it “dating.”  Granted, my personal experiences tell me that South Robinson isn’t the place to take these dates — and that man/woman verbal agreements usually call for alcohol and the food to come from places like The Mantel, Charleston’s or even my kitchen—but food is food, whether it’s steak, sea bass or a Cool Ranch Dorito is simply semantics.

 
As I stated in yesterday’s lottery mock draft, the second half of the project worked on in conjunction with Royce Young at DailyThunder.com and Max Trueblood of OKCThunderfans.com is running today on DailyThunder.com.  Keep in mind that this back portion includes our guess at what the Thunder will do with the 25th pick.  So, check it out.
In addition, there has been plenty of news that could effect the Thunder when it comes to the draft.  In the past 24 hours, the following rumors or transactions have come to light:

The Spurs obtained an all star swingman from Milwaukee, Richard Jefferson, for the expiring contracts of three players who will probably provide no service to the Bucks.  For the Thunder, the implications are huge.  It shows that the predicted fire sale market is real.  Teams with cap space or who are willing to take on salary can get something for nothing.
Chad Ford of ESPN wrote this about the market for the Wizards #5 pick hours before the Timberwolves gave up a coveted shooter (Mike Miller) and their best guard (Randy Foye) and took on $18MM worth of dead weight contracts for said pick:

The Knicks have offered Larry Hughes for (Etan) Thomas and (Mike) James. The Wolves reportedly have offered Mike Miller. The Celtics would give them Ray Allen. The Rockets would give them Tracy McGrady and Carl Landry. The Bucks would send them Richard Jefferson. The Nets would entertain unloading Vince Carter. The Suns could do something with Shaquille O’Neal. The Blazers could part ways with Steve Blake, Jerryd Bayless or Travis Outlaw.

Considering what you read in that last bullet point, imagine what offers Sam Presti might be entertaining for an even better spot at #3.
With that last deal, the Wolves now possess four picks in this god awful (talent wise) draft.  Supposedly, they are hoping Memphis will part with the #2 pick for the #5 and #18 (leaving Minnesota with the #2, #6, and #28).  Personally, I’d think Memphis could do a lot better, but if that happens, the Wolves are targeting either Hasheem Thabeet, James Harden, Tyreke Evans, or *gulp* Ricky Rubio.  Supposedly, Evans is the player with whom they are most enamored.
Also coming out last night was news that Oklahoma City has obtained the services of a prominent Spanish law firm.  The reason for such a move would evidently be to handle negotiations of a Rubio contract buyout with his current team DKV Joventut.  And if you want an organization to help you with a buyout, this is the one, wouldn’t you think.  Currently Joventut is seeking the equivalent of $6.6MM for Rubio to get out of the final two years of a deal that is worth upwards of $250K to the player.  I’m pretty sure such a clause would never stand up in U.S. Court.
One rumor I hope is just bunk is that the Thunder are considering a deal with Phoenix in which they would swap the #25 pick for the #14 pick in this year’s draft with the target being B.J. Mullens for Oklahoma City.  To convince the Suns to make this deal, the Thunder would return the 2010 Suns draft pick that they now possess.  Considering that Phoenix is on the verge of slashing and burning their roster (there are constant rumors that Shaq and Amare Stoudamire are headed out) to save money, that pick could be very valuable especially in a 2010 draft pool that is projected to be much stronger.  Besides, in all likelihood Mullens is just another Robert Swift.  Plus, Mullens eyebrows whig me out.
Supposedly, the Knicks are making an effort to acquire the Thunder’s #3 pick with the intention of taking Stephen Curry.  Other than the #8 pick, I’m not sure what New York would be offering.
Sacramento, the other team that has been privy to information about Rubio’s contract information and has interviewed the Spaniard, is rumored to be trying to leap frog the Thunder by trading with Memphis for #2.  Then again, they are also rumored to be disinterested in Rubio and may be worried Memphis will take Tyreke Evans.  This is another situation where I’m not sure what the team hoping to move up would be able to offer.
Russell Westbrook is not happy about the concept of moving to the two guard.  In talking to ESPN the Magazine’s the Thunder’s incumbent “point guard” said the team should take James Harden with the number 3 pick.  When they asked about him sliding to the shooting guard position to make room for Ricky Rubio, Westbrook’s response was:  “Man, you trippin’.” I’m not really surprised by this revelation.  At the end of the season, Coach Scott Brooks was taking Westbrook off the ball more and playing him with Shaun Livingston a lot.  Then, when The Oklahoman polled the players about whether the interim tag should be removed from Brooks’ title, Westbrook was one of two players who did not endorse the move.  It could be that Brooks, a former point guard, realizes RW lacks the instincts a floor general should possess.