Last night at Wrestlemania XXIV, Snoop Dogg oversaw a women's tag team match that ended with him laying out a guy named Santino Marella. This was awesome for a number of reasons. First, it looked stiff as hell. Secondly, he immediately grabbed downed wrestler Maria and made out with her, because he's a pimp. Also, it was an incredible joy to hear WWE play-by-play guy Jim Ross shout "SNOOP DOGG!" over and over again.

Snoop's clothesline puts him in the top position among music-related Wrestlemania moments. What are the others in the top five? Glad you asked, and feel free to drop your favorites in the comments.

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Occasionally, the Capri Lounge will open up its doors to the hard-working interns here at RS. Here's the first dispatch from the unpaid labor battlefield.

We’ve Got Skillz…

The morning begins like this: each day, like clockwork, interns congregate around the round table to begin compilation of the media packet (a collection of news clippings distributed to the editors each day). Communication is minimal, since we're all technically still sleeping. Without a strong dose of coffee in my system, my grammar is a cross between peevish toddler and Yoda: "Sleepy, I am."

Admittedly, I am not a morning person. But few jobs begin around noon, which makes snoozing late a thing of the past. Former jobs never really required much of me (my first resume was so bare that I cited skills I thought were impressive just to fill space: "I can swim" and "recite the alphabet." I omitted "Churro making," as I thought that wouldn't be an applicable skill).

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Normally I hate sports analogies, but I feel I must make one. As the Bush administration mercifully draws to an end, so does another hated regime that is also a study in abject failure: The New York Knicks under head coach/GM Isiah Thomas.

After suffering through another season watching the Knicks, I have come to the conclusion that the worst franchise in sports has much in common with the worst presidency in our history. That Isiah Thomas and his boss James Dolan have chosen to mimic the Bush/Cheney junta with similarly abysmal results has been one of the NBA's most embarrassing stories for the last few years. (I know that sports teams are unimportant and a ridiculous thing for a grown man to care about, but I do care, so indulge me.) Paranoia, fiscal insanity, opaque operations, embarrassing lawsuits and an endless parade of debacles mark this epoch of Knick history and also the American presidency. When most would have had the grace and dignity (or at the very least the shame and horror) to resign and retire to play golf or shoot small birds, or whatever it is phenomanally wealthy folks do in the closing days of the American empire, these fuckheads have hung on to the bitter end. Here are some Bush/Knicks points of comparison:

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For fans of 1990s sketch comedy, these past couple of weeks have been Woodstock, Live Aid and the ALF reunion movie all rolled into one. Not only did the Kids In The Hall announce a two-month reunion tour. Not only did HBO announce they had picked up a new show featuring Mr. Show’s Bob Odenkirk and David Cross. But the mother of all 1990s sketch comedy groups — The State — quietly reformed March 15th at the UCB theater in Los Angeles for their first live show in over a decade. The show was so under the radar that even hardcore State fans had no idea it happened until days after it was over.

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In reference to my last post, I was reminded over the weekend that the above video actually exists. This is my vote for the "Wackiest Music Video That Incorporates Movie Footage" award (narrowly edging out U2's "Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me"). What are your votes for most ill-advised soundtrack/cinema crossover?

Jay Jay French of Twisted Sister has remade his band's "I Wanna Rock" into "I Want Barack" (singer Dee Snider isn't on the song because he endorses John McCain). Remember when Tag Team re-appropriated "Whomp! (There It Is)" for Addams Family Values? This is worse.

Elvis Costello isn’t releasing his new album on CD — it'll only be available on vinyl and as a digital download. And while that's a fascinating move, I have to admit that I’m way more interested in the album's name: Momofuku. Did Costello, who currently lives in New York, name his new release after the hottest restaurants in the city: chef David Chang's Momofuku Noodle Bar, Momofuku Ssam Bar, and the new, impossible-to-get-into Momofuku Ko?

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If you know somebody in the music business, they’ll tell you that South By Southwest is a clusterfuck now — that what started as an intimate gathering of local Austin, Texas musicians and a few indie bands has become a jungle of corporate sponsorships and pure promotion. (Among the scrappy up-and-coming artists who made big splashes this year: R.E.M and, um, Van Morrison.) The other big knock is that South by Southwest doesn't make sense anymore now that the CD business is dying: that the old model of bands coming to town looking for some press and a record contract doesn't apply anymore.

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What It Is: The entry into the 21st century for James Todd Smith (aka LL Cool J).

What the Idea Was: After spending most of the 1990s as an ab model, LL Cool J tried to come back to his harder roots (with mixed results) while declaring himself the "greatest of all time."

Why It's Only a Penny: LL should know that cred cannot be bought over the span of a single album (especially after that video for "Hey Lover," not to mention In the House), but he tries to do it anyway. The result is a strange mix of pop-centric funk beats accompanied by LL's tough guy stories, with guest spots from DMX, XZibit, Prodigy and Method Man (but also from almost-was Amil and never-weres Kelly Price and Kandice Love). Also, the full title is (deep breath) G.O.A.T. Featuring James T. Smith, The Greatest of All Time.

Why It's Worth the Shipping: With the pretty good jams "Take It Off," "Fuhgidabowdit" and "U Can't Fuck With Me," it essentially amounts to the last good LL Cool J album (were you even aware the guy put out three albums since this one?). The beats, while not terribly interesting, represent a noble attempt to bridge the two sides of LL's career. There is great, tight story telling on songs like "Homicide," but it's often derailed by awkward attempts at profundity (the chorus of "Homicide" is "I don't mean this in a disrespectful way/But Columbine happens in the hood every day"). In other words: a failure, but a pretty fascinating one.

When it comes to women, one of the things that has confounded men through the ages is the ladies' room. As one of few females in my immediate cubicle vicinity, I often field questions about what goes on (aside from the obvious, of course) in Wenner Media's female facilities: Are there couches? Plushly carpeted floors? Dance parties? Cheese plates? Consider this the inside track.

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