This year's Fling is going to be a battle. Just like those battles in which Eminem competes in 8-Mile. It's going to be power pop meets hip hop, the Ghetto v. the 'Burbs. It appears that this Fling's catch phrase, "Testing...Testing...Is This Fling on?" should have been something more like, "Fling it on!" embodying the spirit of confrontation. OK Go are Cheddar Bob, the guy who accidentally shoots himself in the nuts. He's a goofball who offers nothing to the cause -- to the 313 -- but you can't help but like him anyways. He's a perpetual fuck-up who inadvertently gets in the way of any sort of musical advancement. Math rock with catchy melodies and anthem-esque choruses, OK Go comes tied up in a quaint little package along with the Donnas, an all-girl rock quartet who'll remind you of the importance of being liquored up. Performing during Fling -- an event synonymous with alcohol -- their message will be redundant, along with their regurgitation of metal riffs. When OK Go stammers: "You're a bad-hearted boy-trap, babydoll/But you're, you're so damn hot," the Donnas are ready with their answer: "You look familiar, do I know you?/Oh yeah, you're that popular guy/You always made fun of my crew/ And now you wanna get me high?/Yeah!" It seems everyone has a "crew" these days. Those chicks are like Britney Murphy -- trying to work their way up (for 5-plus years), the Donnas'll still take a hit and sleep around with a zealous "Yeah!" to conclude. Primarily preoccupied with his penis, demonstrating his street-cred through pompous preachery, Busta Rhymes and the Donnas have substance abuse and one-time ass-tappin' hook-ups in common. He sounds like a manic after meds. And that is something Penn students can understand. Busta's got a squad of his own of course -- "Busta Rhymes and the whole entire Flipmode Squad" -- to which, when disaster strikes, we will "all bear witness to The Most High Exalted." He sounds like bad-guy 5000, if you ask me. But then it looks like he'll equally bust rhymes and eyes. And, looking at his lyrical form, his mad-man mutterings utilize eye-rhymes far too frequently. Yo, but who's Rabbit? No, Jurassic 5 isn't anything entirely new. Yes, they broke ground and appeal to those on the other side of 8-mile, those who'll say "Fuck the Free World," and maybe even some who represent The Free World. Jurassic 5 -- they can be Rabbit -- appeal to kids worried about SATs and SUVs. Adhering to the old-school, pushed into the mainstream, still reaching for the underground, Jurassic 5 is looking for some respect in an world hyper-conscious of authenticity: "We're real people homey/Just like you we humble/But don't mistake us for some corny ass crew." Jurassic 5 has charisma. Far from taking themselves too seriously and too good for the shock value of killing wives, they hearken back to the days when socks were high and striped -- what sets these hip-hop auteurs apart is that they revert to a simpler time. When the battle is over, they don't want no celebration. They just want to go back to the factory -- just like B. Rabbit.

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