Tuesday, June 30, 2009

I heart U

I know we've been on Michael Jackson overdose (npi) for about a week now. I refuse to add to that with some "tribute" or give you a reiteration of what the entire planet's been talking about.

What I will do is use the situation as a wake up call for Love. We, as humans, have this unconscious desire to love, & the ability to carry it out into action. Some say that's what separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom. That, & the fact that we worship God. I believe other animals can love, but its more "that's the hand that feeds me" ethos, rather than "I'll die for him by choice".

Either way, I'm not an advocate for animal rights, so in most cases I couldn't care less what happens to them. Don't worry, I don't have any pets. I have kids, I don't need other helpless creatures to poop on my furniture, eat my food & do whatever it takes to garner my attention. & for the record, I don't even like most Humans that much.

But the ones I do care about, its undoubtedly love. I'm old enough to have filtered out the unnecessary buffoons from my life. & most people considered "friends" are just useless seat fillers in the theater of the mind. No Dice. They can get popcorn somewhere else. So, the remainder are part of my extended family, some blood related, most aren't. I don't need similar blood plasma or a DNA test for one to be considered family.

F*@k a Maury Povich.

I said that to say this; appreciate your loved ones while they're here. An old person said to me once, "give flowers to the living". I took that to mean that dead people don't say thank you, much less realize what the hell is going on. They're dead, remember? For some reason, people thought MJ was invincible (again, npi), & we never expected such a thing to happen to him. But it did, & it will happen again countlessly until the last days.

Life is a one-time deal, & within an eye's blink, it can change forever. Take no one for granted. Let those whom you care for know that, as often as you wish. &, on the same token, don't waste time on folks who aren't worth yours.

There's not much worse than a 6 year relationship wasted on some douche who can't give you a refund on time. Actually, what's worse is having an intregal part of your life taken from existence without warning, & living the rest of your life angry because the last time you talked to them was an argument, & you never had the chance to say "I love you", much less say goodbye.

Think about it. God bless. Hey, I love y'all.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Father's Day: The Late Pass Edition

We can all agree on one thing; Dads are mythical creatures, like leprechauns. If you're lucky enough to stumble upon a "pot o' gold", then you become the exception. Congrats. Otherwise, Dads are an urban legend that most only see in action during prime time television viewing, amidst whispers about them at school &/or work.

FTR, I have the greatest Dad ever, so......

The lack of Father's has been apparent for quite some time, depending on your vantage point, but Hollywood brings it to light, even more so than my immediate group of friends. I thrive on being the best dad I can be, what with so many accounts of how absentee/negligent fathers contribute to the crime rate & all. I'd hate to think my homeboy's son may rob me at gunpoint some day simply because he stayed at the strip club all the time. Don't laugh, it ain't funny.

Daddies teach, protect, nurture, discipline, etc. Supposedly. But where was Rihanna's dad when she got domesticated?

I understand we must allow our kids to fend for themselves in life, but *ahem* F#$k that. You hit my kids, there will be discrepancies afoot (Word to Bernie Mac-RIP). Even if they are grown. Some things in life are worth the possible punishment. (Black) eye for an eye, am I right? All jokes aside, dude kicked her ass pretty good, & if nothing else, that needed to be addressed with the same level of testosterone as it was dished out. Even Brown's step-dad, who's been rumored to have smacked his mom around rom time to time, should've given Young Chris a reason to sing a new tune (npi). I know its easy to arm-chair quarterback a situation like that, but I have a daughter. & insanity &/or passion crime is a legitimate plea, for possible future reference. It would be different if it were all speculation, but he did. & we know he did it. Hell, dude admitted it. No Judgment though, unless it's probation & community service...


Which leads me to my next point.

Say you have a more or less of-age daughter, who is old enough to experiment in amorous behaviors. No biggie, because any of us dad's with princesses know that one day, this will occur. But, let's just say that said act(s) was recorded, & during the taping, your daughter got peed on, on purpose. At that point, it wouldn't matter how curious she was/is, all that counts is that some guy emptied his bladder on her. At this juncture, playtime becomes ass-whipping time. Granted, daddy's girl may be a freak of Janet Jackson proportions, but to broadcast such degradation is unfathomable. Even hookers have feelings. Humiliation is an understatement, especially in regards to a man who probably can't spell it. Really, I mean eye tee. Mr. Kelly would have most assuredly been man-handled & pissed on for all of youtube to enjoy. I'd have been a folk hero, like Tookie Williams. Or at the very least, high-fived as I went to work that Monday.

Maybe what I'm trying to say, I guess, is I think both those womanizers should have went to prison. God knows how they love a man who mistreats women in those places. But, I would've preferred a couple of televised ass-kickings, courtesy of their fathers.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

First Obama, Now This

"On Thursday [June 18], the United States Senate delivered a unanimous resolution on the eve of Juneteenth apologizing for slavery and segregation. The resolution, which had been introduced a few years back, is the first official statement on behalf of the U.S. Government to acknowledge responsibility for slavery, as well as segregation. " - HipHopDX

WTF? I'm glad they cleared that up. All these years I had been blaming Black people.

So, some gaggle of douches has decided that after centuries of genocide, suicide, & fratricide of a people by "their" hands that we deserve an apology. Wow. Should we send them a bouquet of flowers or just dance in the streets to exhibit our glee? I mean, I can't be the only man who views this as a great day in history. Hoorah for America's sympathetic heart that bleeds for our nation.

Nevermind the fact that we were kidnapped & taken from our identities & habitat(s), forever scarred & anonymous long before we had the displeasure of segregation & racial jugdgement being all we knew. A pleasant apology makes it all better. No need for a band-aid, Uncle Sam.

One has to wonder if Barak Obama's election had anything to do with this. Then, that thought makes me surmise just what percentage of his victory derived from a "sympathy vote". You have to figure that after all the struggle & injustice that we've gone through, its odd that this country just collectively decides that its okay for a (half) Black man to run it, unless they felt bad about something. Very suspect, in my opinion.

I can't begin to fathom the amount of damage that's been done since whoever decided, "yeah, let's just make them do all the shit we don't wanna...". Monumental, at the very least. How can you say sorry for generational rape, which quite possibly may have lead to a form of on-going psychological trauma that can never be recovered from.

Let me guess.....Without Slavery, we would have never gotten Malcolm X, MLK Jr, & the freedom fight for civil rights. But, without slavery, we wouldn't have ever needed any of those things. Another instance of "the chicken or the egg", no?

My grandmother was ravaged, my grandfather was broken, my sister was taken, my brother was sold, my children were brainwashed, but if you tell me that you really didn't mean for it to turn out this way, then all is forgotten. No Dice. Being able to eat at their table & piss in their urinals doesn't count as a reparation.

&, to announce such an atrocity in the wake of Juneteenth is even a bigger backhanded apology. Might as well have announced it in the midst of Black History month, during the Spike Lee movie marathon. Better yet, invited every "important" Black in America to a barbecue, to honor the event, & have it catered by Popeye's & Roscoe's Chicken & Waffles. Grape sodas & Newport cigarettes for everyone.

Its referred to as a "resolution". What's that supposed to mean? What, exactly, is to be resolved? Murder? Racism? Impoverishment? Really, "they" would've been better of just leaving things the way they've been all this time & letting "us" think that we're making steps towards social reconciliation on our own rather than acknowledge & remind us with this apology.

The Native Americans got the right to gamble legally, the Hispanics got all of Southern California, & we got Kwaanza, Juneteenth, rumors of reparations & a three-year old "resolve" which, most folks probably don't even know exists. Personally, I've never been a slave, so there's only so much hatred I can muster up against the powers that be, but the mere fact all this (& by all this, I mean the plight of the Black family in America) could have been avoided by a small dose of humanity & good will towards mankind, pisses me off. Now, we're the step-children that are forced to fend for ourselves, even though we've become our biggest opponents. Often times in the Black community, distrust of the police resonates deeply, but that's not who I'm worried about. I'm worried about niggas, standing on the corner, waiting, who can't get jobs, or attend school to better themselves &/or provide for their families. That causes a "survival of the fittest" mentality that can't be matched by a peace officer's blood lust. I know those dudes didn't choose to live a life of hardship & turmoil because it seemed like a good idea at birth. Oh, I just remembered, the senate said sorry.

Guess I'll walk down the street to my neighborhood church to pray about it, & after that go right next door to the liquor store & get drunk to forget about.

That's what we've been doing or centuries.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

I Do (not)........


Another one bites the dust. Reports have it that Usher & his mom, I mean wife are severing ties after a couple of years & a couple of babies. Seems like there's an email going around that these successful young millionaires can do better than the crumbs they settled for. I'll admit, I'd seen some pictures of NaS' wife Kelis that made her look pretty okay. But, upon further research, I retract my statement. There's a lot of pics on the 'Net.

NaS' wife supposedly left him for cheating. Men do that, so I understand. He's a little too old to be chasing chickens if you ask me, but to each his own. Now, I wouldn't be surprised if Usher Raymond did the same thing. Not because he's terribly attractive [||], but because he's young & rich, while his wife is young-ish & rich by association. Not that there's anything wrong with marrying down. Its kind of like social charity. But if that is the case, one should be allowed to dip out occasion. Like, if you donate so much cash to a school, they name a library or something after you. Same difference.

The one's I can't understand are the Mel Gibson-type cats. They have a thousand kids, 62 years of marriage (however stale), grandchildren, history, basically have the person that they might as well grow old & die with. Yet, he decides at the ripe age of 124 to find a more youthful BRIDE & impregnate her immediately. Isn't the point of divorcing to get out of the game? Especially if/when you have a woman that sticks by you through crappy movies & anti-semitic tirades? In that case, the same thing can be said for Usher & NaS' wives. Their last albums were okay at best.

I'm not quite sure what the deal was with Russell & Kimora. Personally, I think she got tired of the lisp. Although, a heavy african accent should be equally as annoying, unless one's shopping for jewelry or incense. I had thought that Russell was pimping his Rush Card so hard because he was a money hungry jerk with no regard for the "people" he represents & no one buys his clothes any longer. No Dice. Kimora is a money hungry jerk with the multiple children by different fathers to prove it. Russell just happened to be one of the sperm donors. I'm sure in a few of years Kimora will get tired of Djimon & call INS on him. Or give him back the 12 goats his father offered her as a ransom & tell him to pack his mule & start swimming.

Cat's talk that pre-nup stuff, but women found a way around that, & it's been working great for years. It's called gloveless love. Not only does a baby override any binding legal contracts, but it gives the woman full access to your personal life, making it that much easier for them to torment you until the day you stroke [||] & die during an argument. I'm a firm believer in the theory that women are put on the planet to drive men to the court house, the poor house, the crazy house & the funeral, umm, house. In that order.

If any young dudes reading this have doubts, don't. Love still exists & good woman are still around. Just don't go looking for them at TGIF's. Or the Swapmeet. Or liquor store parking lots. Or any place where skin-tight pants & muffin-top exposing shirts are mandatory.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Bloodstains in the Studio

Call me crazy, but I could listen to "murder, murder, kill, kill" music all day. It's like watching some urban-slasher movie, & all it's sequels. Complete with gratuitous violence, illicit sex, & random chaos. For my buck, I want anarchist bedlam. BTW, Friday the 13th is my favorite horror movie franchise (even though the last one blow nads).

In Hip Hop, we had a little romp with that theory, called Horror-core. Ugh, I hate sub-genres. They're like calling someone your "third cousin". What's the point? So, the whole horror/rap hybrid failed miserably. Maybe if they just called it what it was, Hip Hop, then it might not have gotten so much attention. Or negative light. The most famous act born of this experiment was "Gravediggaz", who collectively weren't that famous at all. As solo artists, they're were somewhat successful, but that was when they were doing their own thing, navigating their own lane(s), overseeing their own destiny(s), per se. Not performing awkwardly disturbing lyrics that sounded cheesy & contrived together. Of course, the lesser known acts that were lumped into this category were rapping about having sex with babies & eating their mothers' hearts long before some douche in an office decided that this was "it". Shout outs to Brother Lynch Hung, Natas, Bushwick Bill & the ilk.

Now, there's a very thin line between (for lack of a current term) horror rap & gangsta rap. On one hand, both involve senseless murders, often unnecessarily violent. Both always include sex, at some point, whether it's before, after or during said murders, & both seem to be some animal instinct being tapped for survival of the fittest. Yet & still, both are extremely entertaining to those of us who know how to stop & smell life's roses.

There was a scene in Friday the 13th, Part 2 I think, where this kid in a wheelchair was trying to "run" (npi) from Jason. Jason grabbed the boy's head, strapped it to a tree & twisted the belt he used until the pressure caused the boy's head to pop. It was fantastic! I know that if I was forced to actually watch something like that in real time, I'd throw up until my body shriveled, wilted & rigomortis'd. But, that's the beauty of entertainment. You know its not real. I'd rather watch that nonsense than Chicken George lose a foot, or Celie shave Mister anyday.

This is why I'm bumping "old" 50 Cent & "new" Eminem so much right now. All the hype surrounding 50 vs Rick Ross made me revisit the 50 who didn't care about the hoes dancing. He had a problem with everybody, thus, everybody had to get shot the f#ck up. You can't argue with a bulletproof supervillian with a chip on his shoulder. Get Rich Or Die Trying is a masterpiece. That's Gangsta, indeed. As for Eminem, I stopped listening after the Marshall Mathers LP. To me, he got way too close to the real life struggles I endure on a regular basis, like hating my mom & battling addiction. I prefer him decapitating bullies & such. But, he came full circle with "Relapse". Its entertaining, idiotic & completely void of any realness.

Uncut entertainment.

That's what it's about. Bill collectors & baby momma's keep it real enough for me. When it comes to my Hip Hop, I want it to be as far from actuality as possible.

Keep up the good work, guys.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Dead Rappers=Dead Presidents

It's weird how fiscal (someone else's) death can be in the entertainment biz.

Without some blowhole murdering Tupac Shakur, how successful would Master P* have been? He literally based the first half of his rap career on dedicating just about every one of his mediocre songs to Pac's memory. The second half was spent pimping out his family members & giving out record deals like so much free cheese. It's still unclear to me if the two ever even met. Yet, Percy Miller shouted him out intently, & often, like the two had been college room mates. Or prison cell mates. & P wasn't the only dude to benefit from a posthumous Pac. There was actually a time in (west coast & down south) Hip Hop when even the slightest indication of Tupac influence meant guaranteed success. If he IS in a grave, he's rolled over no less than 500 times by now.

Take rapper Fat Joe*. A relatively obscure hip hopper from the Bronx, NY in the mid-90's. If it weren't for my insatiable love of the culture, I wouldn't have known who he was either. He had a couple of bland records that were met by unexcited praise, but the smartest thing he ever did was introduce the world to the super-lyrical MC Big Pun. Pun took the rap world by storm, only to die from a heart attack a couple of years later. From this untimely death was born fame for Joe, who began every song with some sort of short rant about the man he dubbed his "twin". Though Joe never possessed the skill of Pun, as long as he could convince folks that Pun's ghost was somewhere in the room, he had our attention for the moment.

I won't even go in on Puffy & Notorious BIG*.

Now, to the list of parasites, we can add an unknown rap cat named Charles Hamilton. First glance at his name would indicate that he's a figure skater, or some type of child backgammon protege. No Dice. He's best compared to that strange guy who always talks in mumbles & never matches his clothes, purposely. Regardless of failing thus far to become a hip-hop-household name, he continues to attempt to brainwash the masses into thinking he's offering above average rap records, when they are merely clear cries for help. He even got punched in the face by some girl he put in a song. One would think she would be grateful for her 5 minutes of fame. Instead, she kicked his ass for being so homotional. Even that attack on his manhood wasn't enough to deter him from douchebaggery.

His next album was to be Executive Produced by a producer by the name of J-Dilla*, who passed away about 2 years ago from Lupus. Even though he was an underground artist, Dilla had produced hit records for a large amount of notable artists. For the most part, he just starting getting the respect his craft deserved when his life ended.

Nonetheless, he's dead now, & in some odd attempt at homage, Charles decided to make Dilla executive producer on his next album. Problem is, they've never worked together, met, or shared any type of mutual friendship (stalker!). As strange as that may be, Hamilton said that he did so in an effort to see to it that Dilla's family benefits from a percentage of every album sold. Which, really wouldn't be strange at all if he didn't plan on releasing the album on the 'Net for free download. What first appeared a genuine effort on his part to contribute to a dead man's family quickly evolved into a marketing scheme implosion, further cementing Hamilton's legacy of being a f%cking jerk.

When idiocy outweighs musical output, something's not working in your favor. This is the stuff that true douches are made of.

Call me old-fashioned, but in my day, if one wanted to help out another, we simply took them whatever we thought they needed. May even have called & asked first if it was cool for us to even extend our hand to them. A good sign if someone is an asshole is assuming that whatever they decide to do for us will be good enough. If Hamilton didn't have the money currently available to manifest his good intentions, he could've organized a fundraiser for Dilla's loved ones. Folks love giving for a cause. It's the homeless people that they refuse to help. If properly orchestrated, he could have raised tens of thousands of bucks to give them. Hell, at this point, a tattoo of J-Dilla on his back would have been better received by the public.

According to Charles' blog, the politics of the music game made it virtually impossible to put Dilla's stamp on his brand. No Dice. It was probably more like Dilla's mom caught wind of this bum ass clown & shooed him away like bees at a barbecue. So, to save face, he blamed it on a bunch of people who don't really exist.

We know death is the Holy Grail of marketing. & if you can't get a co-sign from a dead dude, its time to change careers.

If it's worth anything, Robert Louis Stevenson is my executive publisher. Shouts out to his mom.
*-Google Alert

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Courage (as taught to me by my 6 year old son)

My 6 year old son has had a very trying 2 weeks.

He's had a very serious cold, was diagnosed with Asthma, & learned about how it can compromise mortality, been on breathing machines, swallowed pills, gotten shots, rehearsed for his kindergarten graduation & dealt with all the regular curve balls life throws at a person.

For the entire duration of that time, I've been by his side, literally & physically. As usual. I wouldn't have it any other way.

There was a pinnacle moment at the doctor's office that I found somewhat amazing.

He had received 2 breathing treatments to help clear his lungs. After that, the doc decided that he needed a liquid medication to beef up the effort. They brought him a cup full of disgusting liquid, & he politely, yet sternly said, "I don't want that, it's nasty." The doctor attempted in her best "doctor knows best" voice to convince him that he should take it, otherwise he'd get a shot instead. Without missing a beat, dude said, "Gimme the shot" & looked at the doc as if he was thinking "G*ddamn right, I said that." She shrugged it off, & the accompanying nurse chimed in, siding with the doctor's advice.

My son didn't budge or blink.

"No, I can't take that stuff. It's nasty, I'll just take the shot please."

Another nurse walked in, & said "Okay, we'll just do it like this....." By now, knowing my boy, I could see that this was going to be a battle of wills. How dare this child challenge the authority of certified pediatricians? But, nonetheless, that's exactly what he did. I leaned back & watched how the situation was going to unfold.
The third, umm, more urban nurse decided that she'd administer the medication with one of those syringes that don't have a needle, like the ones used to give young babies their medicine orally.

Ha! No Dice. My son is by no definition a punk, or a quitter, so promptly, he spit the meds out onto that same, umm, urban nurse's uniform shirt.

Keep in mind, he told them from the gate to just give him the shot. Adults have this strange ability to think that kid's don't have their wits about them. Realistically, my kid's are a lot smarter than a healthy percentage of my adult friends.

So, out comes the needle, as a punishment I assume. He fought them a little because, like me, he doesn't appreciate unknown, overweight black woman touching him aggressively. She gave him the shot in the thigh, & he sat up & looked at the small blood spot. Without making eye contact, he said "I told you. You should've gave me the shot like I said"

I loved it. The gaggle of ladies picked up their faces from the linoleum & bid him a farewell. That, umm, urban nurse mumbled "Excuuu-uuse me".


I teach my kids to meet a challenge with a challenge. Never take the easy way out. & a couple of other cliche's that could easily be taken from any of the Karate Kid trilogy. & they listen. I tell my daughter, "You're not a follower. You're a leader. Show them the back of your shoes at all times!" Imagine my delight when I heard her tell another kid that. Smiles for the day.

I think about the many situations I've experienced that the skill he displayed in that office could've changed my life. True, I probably wouldn't be the same person with a good life, but then again, who knows what direction I might have taken. Point being, by the time we go from being those brutally honest toddlers to adults so content on living in a world of deception & self-doubt, it's too late to recapture that tenacity. Words like "no" & "I'd rather not" get overshadowed by a willingness to please all the people all the time. Why do we do this?

Because life sucks, & nobody bothered to tell us that between teaching us to tie our shoes & bless our food before we eat. Grown ups, as a whole, aren't all that smart, per se. We've just somewhat mastered the art of survival. Not a "lost in the jungle" survival, but a "Hey, whatever works." tactic that's leaves us vulnerable to the quills of reality.

Kids are smart, if only because they're ignorant to the politics of life. No guessing games, no confusion, no gimmicks. They tell it like it without being weighted down by silly emotions like guilt, jealously, envy, hate & all the ones in between.

Books are good, movies are great, but if ever there's a time that an adult needs to be re-grounded, just have a genuine conversation with a child.

You'll be surprised how much more about life they know than we give them credit for.

Friday, June 5, 2009

The Other Woman's Milkshake>Kelis'

Twitter is at it again. First, it made rapper Asher Roth seem like a racist douche nozzle, then it caused legal woes for baseball legend Tony La Russa, now it's helping R&B singer Kelis spread her message of anti-cheating, at the expense of her soon-to-be ex hubby/rapper Nasir "NaS" Jones.

Actually, this has nothing to do with Twitter; that's like the dude's on "Cheaters" who blame Joey Greco for bringing the wife to the other woman's jacuzzi party, only to catch her man on the down stroke of another chick's upside. Twitter was as much an innocent bystander to the melodrama as the couple's unborn son.

Simply put, the pair fell victim to statistics. Most couples do, so there's no reason fame & "fortune" would exclude them from the club. I've heard that it had to do with a sex tape Kelis had floating around, but that's never been proven, per se. If anyone has it though, please provide link, for research & things. I've also heard that NaS cheated, which I can totally believe. That's one of the things men do; cheat, move heavy furniture & kill spiders.

Kelis' tweet was something to the effect of "I hate cheaters", or "I hate the sluts who participate", but whatever it was, the thousands of folks that read it got her insinuation. Hell hath no fury like a (black) woman scorned. I can read between the lines, it really said "Yeah, that n*gga cheated, & I'm tellin' all y'all he ain't sh*t!" If it weren't for Twitter, that kind of banter would have only been heard by her numerous, manless gf's, before making it's way into the Globe or Page Six or her next song. Now, society is so "plugged-in", that all she had to do was type less than 145 characters to put all of their business on Front Street. Bet she wouldn't have done that if she was married to Chris Brown. Milkshakes in the emergency room, indeed.

I never have understood the whole marriage thing. On many levels, it appears to be as pointless as it is beneficial & I assume there was an aspect of actual love at one point in history, but now, it just seems like a good business deal. Tax-wise, health insurance purposes, minimizing living expenses, in-house sex, round-the-clock child supervision; at first glance it's a veritable win-win. Throw love & respect in the mix & the phrase "happily ever after" just materializes on it's own. Problem is, people do it for the wrong reasons, then sit perplexed when it all falls down.

Sans any corniness, I got married out of love, & assuming my wife did the same, this could very well be why our almost 7 year marriage is still in full swing. Now, don't get me wrong, we've had our share of ups 'n' downs. & I've done my share of really, really stupid things, but I was a different, less compassionate person those many years ago. I've long since cleaned up my act, & the fact that she rode that rollercoaster with me is a testimony to her feelings regarding me. I can't rightly speak for her, but the fact that I've never gotten cut or caught hot grits to the face says we have a pretty solid marriage, built on a stern foundation. As opposed to just getting hitched for our son's sake.

The fact that NaS & Kelis were married for almost two years before she became pregnant dispels the "married for our kid" mantra. They had some time to learn each other's personas, with breastfeeding or diaper changing interruptions. I also heard they dated for quite awhile before the wedding, as opposed to meeting at the club & (him) moving in (to her aaprtment), like the story usually goes. I was surprised too; I thought "dating" was just for White folks nowadays.

You'd have to figure, NaS is approaching mid-30's. This is usually around the time where a dude has had all his fun, broad-wise. Now would be the time to enjoy the spoils of conquest. Been there, done that, as they say. Its not like Kelis is a bad looking lady, although the grass is always greener, especially if you continue to look over the fence, without watering your own. Realistically, NaS probably has more than enough groupies willing to drop trou at a moments notice, but so do I. So, there's no excuse for how strong the weakness of the flesh is.

More importantly, in the grand scheme, it's not that serious. A sack toss, that couldn't have lasted all that long, unless he's like Diddy, caused all this commotion in his life. Now, the rhetorical question of the day; Was it worth it? Maybe it was to him, but to me, only few things can bring the level of happiness that a family can. Plus, it's going to be real embarrasing when NaS tells his son that his parents divorced because he couldn't turn down some trim.

I'm just saying. If you're going to go through all the trouble, might as well make the most out of it. Life is too short to make commitments to people (& God) that you either can't or won't keep. True, none of us are perfect, but we all want happiness. Said happiness is closer than you think. Usually, to get it, you have to sacrifice something. That's kind of how God designed the whole gratification thing.

Good luck.

*Editor's note: Sorry for the lack of Milkshake jokes....*

Monday, June 1, 2009

HATE!: The American Pastime

I dislike Sean John Combs as much as the next guy.

Maybe a little less than Shyne, & a little more than Andre Harrell, nevertheless, mine runs pretty deep.

Would I go as far as to say I "hate" him? Not at all. I've never met him, & outside of wasting some precious life moments of mine with his horrid lyrics, he's never done anything to me personally.

But, from what I gathered, quite a few people Hate Diddy. I'm not sure why, because in order for me to prescribe someone such a strong emotion, I'd have to love them first. He's by no means my favorite artist, or fashion designer, & for that matter, his cologne isn't even all that good, & I regard him as one of the greatest Douche Nozzles of my generation, but hate isn't a word I'd associate him with.

However, his twitter phenomena has become an "I Hate Diddy" campaign. What he once modestly viewed as adoring fans & followers, have become cyber-stalkers, eThugs & mad rappers, hell bent on hurting the man's million-dollar feelings. Puh-lease. We're talking about the one-time spokesperson for Proactive. He let the world see razor bumps, & bad skin from Cassie's P.O.V. We're talking about a guy who publicly admitted he doesn't "write rhymes, [he] writes checks". We're talking about a guy who has dozens of songs aimed at his humility, & even a couple of books. I'm positive this isn't his first experience with "no love", but this one's gotten him riled up something fierce. So much so that he launched his own anti-movement, entitled "Give A Hater A Hug", as if he's the bigger man. Which, I guess is a good idea, although I doubt that physical contact will persuade any detractors to think otherwise. Maybe if he called it "Give A Hater $100", then folks would have a reason to stall him out. Spread the love around, per se.

Now, only followers that signed on as friends (or however twitting works) can have mutual correspondence with Puff. As if.Here's a little tip [||]; sign on as a friend/follower, then you can get back to the ridicule session. But, don't tell anybody. It's our secret.

A logical mind has to wonder, sometimes at least, what makes a "hater" tick? Any of us who frequent cyberspace knows of the abundance of such a creature. They're in every chat room, on all the message boards, littering the pages with endless insults, unnecessary comments & pointless banter in reference to their target's personal lives. Is it because, deep down, they admire the obvious success? If the "hater" could trade places with the "hatee", he would do so in a second. Yet, he tears down their God-given talent at every chance, & the more their target is defended by the "public", the more the jealously engulfs them. It's funny. I'm a fan of some artist's now just because it ruins the Hater's Day parade(s) for other people. Pissing in their cereal, if you will.

To not like an artist for their skill, or lack there of, is completely understandable, but to start playing the dozens with a guy who's way too busy to respond to you is idiotic. Almost like arguing with an imaginary friend for the whole world to see (or in this case, read). Maybe it makes them feel like they're part of the celebrity's lives, like one of their anonymous darts will bother said artist enough that they'll get a shout out on the album. Yeah, I bet Puffy's itching to tell "MochaMacMan666" why he chooses to rap about money, cars & gratuitous sex.

My wife & I went out last weekend with a few of her friends. They all got dolled up to go to this party, but my wife was the only one with an escort. She looked pretty good, & the other girls looked nice as well, but her & I were matching & we dressed like there was a point to be proved. That following Monday, on their way to work, one of the girls who were with us made it a point to mention, out of the clear blue, that she didn't like my wife's dress that she wore. No Dice. My wife was the best dressed (no favoritism) lady in the room. This chick, on the other hand, was rocking one of those Saturday night club/Sunday morning church joints. "Hope I get some tonight"-wear. My wife just shrugged it off & went on about her day. I knew the broad was mad that, not only was she alone before we went, but she danced alone (numerous times), & ended up buying herself a drink before going home. Alone. That's hate.

So, be warned peeps. They're even out to get us "normal" folks. Haterade was a popular drink, & it still is.