This is it, folks. I am tired of this shit. Visualgui.com is back to just being my online portfolio. Blogging has been fun, but I am burnt out, and got nothing else good to say anymore. So thanks for visiting this site all these years.

I felt in love with Lena Horne’s rendition of “Love Me or Leave Me” the first time I heard it. Like her figure, Lena’s voice is quite voluptuous, and she knows how to give the ballad a sultry vibe with her lithe flow and effortless delivery. Didn’t think anyone could surpass her until I came across Billie Holiday’s version. Not that Lady Day could outshine Lena, but she has her own unique approach to the standard. Lady Day sounds anything but fresh, playful, and invigorating like songbird Lena. She phrases it in a conversational style instead. With her unmatchable technique of singing behind the beat, she flips Lena’s cute, sexy groove into a dark, bittersweet feeling. Her throaty, Brandy-saturated voice combined with her brooding way of expressing the lyrics turns the romantic ballad into a despair classic.

Jay-Z’s verse in Angie Martinez’s “Mi Amor” is a bit misogynistic, but you have to give him that dope flow even when he rhymes with his testosterone: “I like fast cars, I love faster chicks / You don’t need a small waist, I take ass and tits / Love chicks that deep throat, love bein’ left alone / on a Sunday afternoon with the remote / Love havin’ my cake plus eatin’ it too / Shit, I got cake what the fuck I’m ‘posed to do?”

Besides rhyming about cokes and crimes, Ghostface, another hip-hop veteran, has his share of sex rap (not rape) too: “Come here, sit on my lap, it’s not a gat, sugar / Have a seat, don’t be afraid to move back / Feel that? You’re a nasty girl / Big butt, slim gut, I’ll crash your world.” It’s all “Good!”

In case you haven’t noticed, this site is not suitable for children. Don’t let the adorable kids (my niece and nephew) fool you. Because I don’t get to spend time with them too often, they are in the logo so I could see them everyday. Just want to make sure we’re clear because my enjoyments might be too vulgar for some antediluvian minds. So if you don’t know, now you know.

I’ve been wondering how the hell is Andy Quach still singing when he has no vocal ability. After watching Andy and Nguyen Thang performed on stage, it is clear that Andy may not be a singer, but knows damn well how to entertain the ladies. Funniest moment is when he grinded his crotch (while the girls slapped their roses) and rolled his gut (oh shit, where’s the six-pack?). A man gotta do what a man gotta do to stay in the showbiz. Keep pimping, dude!

In contrast, my man Nguyen Khang focuses on his singing despite being surrounded by all the Victorias’ angels. He just sits in his chair and lets his voice does the pimping. That’s how a player plays. When you got the voice, you don’t have to strip to seduce. Keep swinging, baby!

By now you’re probably sick and tired of hearing his name and his music on this site, but I am still feeling him. The brother cut some dope records. I’ve been hooked on his rendition of Tram Tu Thieng’s “Dem Nho Ve Sai Gon.” Love that dust-life delivery, especially when he phrases, “Ta nhu cau be mo coi / Co vui cuoc song nho nhoi / Co quen ngay thang le loi / De lon, de dem dem nho ve Sai Gon.” He later re-recorded the tune for Van Son 34, but his performance is not as effective because he tries to be too reserved. When he attempts to sing in a serious manner, his flow becomes stiff and rigid. In the former version, his unrestrained flow allows that Khangy flavor to dominate. When he does that the result is both soulful and savory.

After reading Ms. Nguyen’s “17th Anniversary,” I freak out because her bullies’ drama and kung fu’s fantasy reflect my own past, those early days in American school.

A couple years ago, I went back to my junior high school to meet with a teacher who was my freelance client at the time to talk about a website project she hired me to do. I walked through the hallway recollecting my thought on the place that was once part of my life. The big bulletin board that displayed photos of exemplary (straight-A’s) students was still there. Yes, my snapshot made it up there once. As I continued my way down to the corner where my ESL class used to be, the bell rang. Kids stormed out of their classrooms everywhere. A Puerto Rican boy stared at me like I was from another planet. As he imitated Bruce Lee’s martial arts, the other kids began to giggle. I just gave them a smile and walked away. Of course, it was not a big deal to me at that time, but thinking back to when I was their age, it was quite a pressure.

Every time I think about the experiences I went through, I hope that Samantha, Eric, and my kids (later on) won’t have to face these racial challenges when they go to school. Maybe it won’t be so bad for them since they were born here and their natural English won’t create such tensions.

Once again, kudos to Ms. Nguyen for bringing back the painful but invaluable lessons. That’s right, if we can’t beat them in anything else, we have to beat them in academic. It’s definitely the best revenge.

In his HBO special, George Lopez mused Arnold Schwarzenegger, “Motherfucker, you don’t speak English.” After seeing Arnold shares his deepest feelings, I know what George meant.

Asian cheerleaders are living la vida loca, and goddamn baby got back.

Amateur singers stutter when they forget the lyrics. Profession singers make shit up when they can’t remember the words. Ella Fitzgerald’s live performance of “Mack the Knife” showed her witty skill when she couldn’t remember the words. She pulled things out of her head like, “Oh what’s the next chorus to this song now / This is the one now I don’t know / But it was a swinging tune / And it’s a hit too / So we try to do Mack the Knife.” I know it is very hard for singers to remember every song correctly; therefore, learn to improvise as a backup plan isn’t so bad. You could turn your flaws into something novelty like Ella did in her Berlin’s concert.

Duc Huy’s “Nhu Da Dau Yeu” has been covered to death, yet Don Ho’s take still remains my personal favorite. I find his whispery flow on low register to be quite sexy. When he soars, “Anh den voi em voi tat ca tam hon / Em den voi anh voi tat ca trai tim,” he sounds more convincing than anyone. The current Don Ho has somehow moved away from that soulful, natural delivery.

I have always been a huge fan of Don Ho. In addition to his music, I respect his down-to-earth attitude and generous personality; therefore, I give him my unconditional support. I purchase most of his CDs without even checking the track list, and his new release, Mai Di Tim: Love 2, is no exception. I must confess, however, it is the worst album he has ever made.

Don Ho murders his own classics. “Trai Tim Mua Dong” (Truc Ho) and “Tinh Nhat Phai” (a Chinese ballad translated by Nhat Ngan) are two of his most recognizable hits; therefore, he doesn’t need to remind us with the remixed versions. Much as I like what Dong Son had done in the past with his new upbeat productions, he brings nothing exciting to “Trai Tim Mua Dong.” I like the tune slow and intimate just like the way Truc Ho has intended it. If “Tinh Nhat Phai” has yet to fade, the clubbing remake, which featured Giana Nguyen’s sweet-n-sour voice and Justin Timberfake’s wimpy rap, makes it vanish immediately.

But I have to give Don Ho the kudos for trying to do the impossible. Who else would think of giving Trinh Lam Ngan’s “Qua Con Me” a dance-up treatment? The only accomplishment he might have achieved is dismantling its “sen” quality by replacing the robotic bolero with the mid-tempo beat. Yet, the most impossible thing he pulls off is throwing a bonus to one of Vietnamese proudest occupations in America. Dino Pham Hoang Dung’s “Nail” has to be the goofiest shit I have heard in a long time. I just love the chorus:

Nail, nail, nail, ban tay ta phai kheo
Nail, nail, nail, nghe Nail dau co beo
Nail, nail, nail, tien vo day ngan keo
Nail, nail, nail, chac chan se khong ngheo!
Bac si, ky su cung khong bang Nail
Hoc phi ton kem ra truong lai lau
Chi vai tram gio bang Nail ta co
Mai mai, dua dua cu the tien vo!

With the happy-go-lucky beat, elementary rhymes and Don Ho’s childlike hiss and shout, I am having a hard time distinguishing if this is a dissed or dedicated song. I am not even sure why the author has to clarify that “nghe Nail dau co beo.” A job is a job, and if doing nail pays the bills, get your papers on, baby. I am just hoping that kids won’t use this song to make a statement to their parents why they rather file hands and polish feet than write prescriptions or draw blueprints.

Like I said from the beginning, Don Ho is my man, but that doesn’t mean I would shy away from criticizing his work. It could be that I am losing interests in his musical direction with this album. Or it could be that he’s not interested in reaching out to me. I am getting old and he’s still young at heart.