Wednesday, February 3, 2010

stick. and. ------>move.

I hate change. I'm a grumpy old dude like that. Which is funny, because I'm so anti-pack rat that I've thrown out important documents ,& the like, all for the sake of it sitting in the same place for too long. Shit looks like trash; it's trash to me. Probably why I don't have a lot of "friends" these days.

But I digress...

All things change, whether we like it or not. Sometimes, we actually get to comandeer fate, & dictate what said change is (not often, though). This, for ya cat Grands, is one of those times.

*chucks a duece at Blogger*

I've relocated. & upgraded. It was about that time to give y'all a little more, seeing as though y'all stay effing with me.

That's the new address. Head over, support your dude, & let's keep this moving...

I'm still working on it, so consider it a somewhat work in progress. Bigger & better is definitely on the menu, but, well, come holler at me. We'll take it from there.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Unnecessary Complication Complex*

Lil Wayne is headed to the slammer in less than a week. I know, shocker right? Not so coincidentally, he'll miss at least 3-4 of his children's birthday's while on vacation. See, I know a lot of irresponsible cats, but I can honestly say that I don't know any who have several kids who'll all turn the same age in the same year. I figured by now, he would have done an interview, or YouTube video explaining how latex gives him hives, or he's allergic to birth control pill residue, & how "kids" should practice safe sex, even if he doesn't. Hell, he could even throw a "Say Nope To Dope" in there as a sort of private joke. No dice. He just shucks & jives as usual, taking publicity photos with whatever random offspring is visiting him on the tour bus that weekend. Not to sound like a douche nozzle, but a rich, drug addicted father is the stuff that poor kids have wet dreams about. Lucky little dust bunnies. &, as if a gaggle of baby mommas isn't complicated enough, the reasons behind his legal woes (legal woes being the reason he'll miss back-to-back-to-back-to-back parties), are in short, unnecessary. Drugs & guns. Two things that folks with money should never have to worry about carrying. Yet & still, here he is, with a cabbage patch full of garbage pail kids, rivaled only by the life giving 'tang of Erykah Badu, & time behind bars an inevitable reality. Undoubtedly, this man has an Unnecessary Complication Complex. A classic case, if I ever saw one.

Now, should we be surprised that Kanye West has been absent from the past few major publicity events that have been rammed down our collective esophagi?


See, the "average" celebrity would've taken that opportunity to throw a jab at the then-president at face value. Even though the world had a pretty good idea that George Bush couldn't care less about the coloreds, Yeezy spoke for us, with balls the size of monkey fists. [ll]. Maybe we didn't thank him loud enough. It's hard to be heard over a personality the size of San Francisco. You know, there was actually a time in American history where such a remark by a person of the negronious persuasion would've been viewed as mutiny, & he would've been lynched for TWO reasons, instead of the usual one. Ha. But, he got away with it, & continued to Hippity Hop along about his pink, fuzz-covered business. But, along that path, he found several more missteps to make, most of which involved him looking like a slick-talking cock sucker, at the expense of poor, defenseless White people. While rappers are beefing with other unimportant Blacks, Kanye waged war with Taylor Swift, wanna-be photographers, & PETA. For the record, PETA is like the NRA, with fur & paws, instead of rifles & rednecks. Unnecessary remark, after unnecessary remark, each one only complicating the last, making a future redemption song that much harder to write, much less sing. Now, at the Grammy Awards, not only does security have orders that he's a domestic terrorist, but as added insult to an already injured ego, he actually won. Twice, I think. That's like a chick handcuffing you to a radiator, across the room, then having her way with her lady parts, while you watch, leaving you to stew in your helplessness. I've heard that the path of a genius is rife with insanity. In that case, I now understand why Kanye does the crazy shit he does. I also read that Albert Einstein talked to, & answered himself, & was unable to tie his own shoes. So, yeah.

Point is, celebrities are normal people, who happen to be famous for whatever parlor trick they've perfected. & like us "normal" folk, they have the innate ability to pile bullshit upon their shoulders until they topple over into their own hysteria. Trouble is, they're really not "normal" people at all. By the time they've reached such a lucrative apex in life, all the individuals who wouldn't mind getting dirty to keep them clean have been replaced by "Yes!" men, hob knobblers & douche bag leeches who've been praying for that day like Albino's pray for shady places. No shots. If a plain, simple, average, basic man impregnates countless women, & gets caught up for drugs & weapons, it's no big deal. I doubt that his life is headed in a direction where such set-backs will actually hinder his life's work. But, if said man is worth a million bucks, with an undoubtedly bright future ahead of him, those same unwise choices could spell uncertainty, doom, & possible failure. Unnecessary complication, indeed. Same goes with well intended, however misguided outbursts at no one in particular. The homeless guy, on the corner, spouting about how the king needs to be overthrown, in between begging for loose change & throwing rocks at passing vehicles is virtually harmless. To himself & anyone in the vicinity. But, if that man is a brand, a company unto himself, with the world at his proverbial fingertips, said man goes from "crazy dude", to "dumb motherfucker", if you smell my cologne.

One of the perks of being "normal", or a nobody like most of us, is that our mistakes & up-fucks won't have that much of an effect on our lives, however meaningless & disposable. But, once you have things to gain, you also have things to lose, & the last thing you'd want in that situation is a UCC. Unnecessary Complication Complex.

Life is easy. It's the decision-making process that's difficult.

Maybe I'll start an online self-help website for these dingleberry famous people who habitual shit where they sleep. I can charge them an arm & a leg, then get rich & famous on their blood, sweat & tears, & make the same mistakes they did. That would make this the most prophetic drop I've ever penned, word to Nostradamus.

*These are just 2 examples. I'm sure, without effort, you can find many more, within arm's distance.