"Let's hear it, one for the coons, on UPN 9 & WB. Who "yes massa" on TV.........Let's hear it, two for the spooks, who do cart wheels. 'Cuz they said they played their parts well."
- NaS, "These Are Our Heroes" from Street's Disciple, 2004
First of all, to hell with "Flavor of Love". If you've never witnessed Flav's show "Under One Roof" (a UPN show, btw), you are missing a lifetime's worth of coontrocity at it's most epic. The basis is as follows: Flav is a felon who, upon his release, moves in with his rich, white-washed, douche-nozzle brother. His brother, who is married to a pasty, money hungry, lazy broad, is the total opposite of Flav's character, Calvester.
Yeah, dude's name is Cal-Ves-Ter.
He's a 40-something year old nigga (sorry, it fits too well) with braids, tarnished gold teeth (not make-up; those are his), & a habit of still wearing those night gown t-shirts that went out of style with throwback basketball jerseys. Like 50 years ago. When people listened to CD players. & rappers sold millions of albums purely off skills. & only rich folk sent e-mails.
Now, the show is so richly based off of stereotypes (including the Asian housekeeper with that nail shop-n-day-hood attitude), that just watching it sets racial equility back about 40 years. Probably the same way our parents felt when they watched James Evans, Jr. & Arnold Jackson shuck & jive their way through lines like "Dy-no-miiiiiite" & "Whatchutawkinbout?", respectively. But, Flavor has no catchy one-liners. He just has him. & That's all he needs. I'm not sure how far removed the character is from Flavor's actual being, but I'm just waiting for some Redneck with a flashlight, a pack of dogs & a double-barrel shotgun to claim ownership to his ass. I try not to use the term "jigaboo", but, well, you get my point.
Don't get me wrong, I'm a pretty "average joe" type guy. I enjoy the subtle, racial humor & unspoken nuances on T.V. for entertainment purposes, just like any other American. But, at a time where they are no visible heroes, this kind of malarky shouldn't be tolerated. Its bad enough that Hip Hop, the proverbial bridge between "us" & "them"*, is rife with ignorance & self-hatred. Now, instead of 3 1/2 minute videos depicting such idiocy, we get 30 minute television programs who can afford to go even MORE in-depth with the stupidity. Heaven help us......
Let's do the math. 3/4 of kids nowadays (pick a social divide; any will do) don't have an immediate positive male role model. The lucky ones have mom's smart enough to end up with a decent guy who chooses to give a damn about them. The unlucky one's are forced to fend for themselves, seeking that greater influence that helps children become adults. That influence lurks, be it good or bad. But without the proper guidance, intentions are overpowered by availability. I can go out on my porch right now & throw three rocks. One will hit a crackhead, one will hit a criminal & the last one will just land quietly in the street. See where I'm going with this?
Al Sharpton's old, Jesse Jackson's bitter, Barack Obama's got better things to do. So where are our heroes? Even better, I'll tell you where they aren't.
They aren't making rap songs. They aren't starring in prime-time TV. shows. There's a pretty good chance that they aren't even living yet.
Regardless to the consensus, heroes aren't manufactured today like they were in our grandparents' heyday. Now, they're home grown wildflowers, like dandelions, all willy-nilly without a purpose. It's time for "us" to reclaim our nation, to right the wrongs & stop following the lead of every flash-in-the-pan noisemaker that thinks they have a point to prove. The blind have been leading the blind for going on two generations now. I can't speak for others, but Stevie Wonder can't keep telling me to trust him because he's pretty sure he knows where he's going.
Maybe I'm just getting older, but with age comes wisdom, so in that case, I should be even more convincing.
Think about it.
--
*"us" vs. "them" is the moral vs. the immoral, the ignorant vs. the educated, the good vs. the bad, just to clarify. It's not a race issue, it's a Human Race problem.
Showing posts with label current events. Show all posts
Showing posts with label current events. Show all posts
Friday, May 29, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Wishful Thinking
Damn, I had it all planned out. So much for wishful thinking.
My plan began to take shape about a year ago.
"America is nearing a recession."
I figured, according to my knowledge of the machine that is the USA., that this meant stock market crash was imminent. Subsequently, anything based around our currency was bound to follow down the tubes. The job market, housing, value of the American dollar globally, the entire microcosm that we'd all came to know & love would be on it's back, flailing it's lifeless limbs like a cockroach on it's last ticks.
In turn, society as it were would be up for grabs. The bottom-feeders would now be on a leveled playing field with the well-to-doers & the lucky-if-they-got-it's. Organized confusion, if you will. Not being one of the wealthy would finally come in handy, like being the first guy in a soup kitchen line.
Fortunately, my tax bracket fell in somewhere between "too much" & "not enough"; mid-middle class extraordinaire.
Just as the getting appeared ready to be gotten, word spread of a new, deadlier strand of the flu heading out of Mexico with a vengeance, called the Swine Flu. After a few days of fearing for my children's lives, & the contamination rate beginning to soar, I saw my opportunity to seize the moment broaden. Alas, my plan began to gain momentum.
The way I saw it, rich people love to vacation, right? Jumping in & out of airplanes, jetting off to unknown islands where the only inhabitants were witch doctors & savages. At some point, they would have no choice but to come across some unlucky schlub who unknowingly had this sickness.
With any luck, they'd catch it one night while dining on open fire-roasted pig & machete sliced pineapple shards. Then, they'd carry it back to their sprawling golf courses & fancy jacuzzi parties, further infecting douche bag after douche bag. After that, they'd return to their plush villa's, coughing & sneezing rudely in the faces of the help. The help would then take it home to their husbands, who work at the car washes that the rich people get their million dollar chariots primped & primed for the next board room meeting. At this rate, they'd all be dead in a matter of months. From the rich, to the poor, & back to rich; so on & so forth.
This is where the middle class raises up, bearing arms like the gays when California voted no on same sex marriages. Without all the high-pitched yelling & open-toed sandals.
The jobs would be ours for the taking. The money earned from those newly available labors could be used to purchase property, creating a new rung on the ladder of hierarchy. The common man would now strike back & regain it's respect.
But wouldn't you know it.
President Obama made good on all his promises. Thus, avoiding the biggest economic downturn of all times. & just as that turmoil leveled off, the swine flu turned out to be a distant, less aggressive cousin of the traditional flu. It even killed LESS people than the regular flu did last year. Two massive bummers in less than a month.
So, regardless of wishful thinking, I'm still stuck between "too much" & "not enough". I could almost taste the success. & it tasted like everything on the McDonald's 99 cents menu.
My plan began to take shape about a year ago.
"America is nearing a recession."
I figured, according to my knowledge of the machine that is the USA., that this meant stock market crash was imminent. Subsequently, anything based around our currency was bound to follow down the tubes. The job market, housing, value of the American dollar globally, the entire microcosm that we'd all came to know & love would be on it's back, flailing it's lifeless limbs like a cockroach on it's last ticks.
In turn, society as it were would be up for grabs. The bottom-feeders would now be on a leveled playing field with the well-to-doers & the lucky-if-they-got-it's. Organized confusion, if you will. Not being one of the wealthy would finally come in handy, like being the first guy in a soup kitchen line.
Fortunately, my tax bracket fell in somewhere between "too much" & "not enough"; mid-middle class extraordinaire.
Just as the getting appeared ready to be gotten, word spread of a new, deadlier strand of the flu heading out of Mexico with a vengeance, called the Swine Flu. After a few days of fearing for my children's lives, & the contamination rate beginning to soar, I saw my opportunity to seize the moment broaden. Alas, my plan began to gain momentum.
The way I saw it, rich people love to vacation, right? Jumping in & out of airplanes, jetting off to unknown islands where the only inhabitants were witch doctors & savages. At some point, they would have no choice but to come across some unlucky schlub who unknowingly had this sickness.
With any luck, they'd catch it one night while dining on open fire-roasted pig & machete sliced pineapple shards. Then, they'd carry it back to their sprawling golf courses & fancy jacuzzi parties, further infecting douche bag after douche bag. After that, they'd return to their plush villa's, coughing & sneezing rudely in the faces of the help. The help would then take it home to their husbands, who work at the car washes that the rich people get their million dollar chariots primped & primed for the next board room meeting. At this rate, they'd all be dead in a matter of months. From the rich, to the poor, & back to rich; so on & so forth.
This is where the middle class raises up, bearing arms like the gays when California voted no on same sex marriages. Without all the high-pitched yelling & open-toed sandals.
The jobs would be ours for the taking. The money earned from those newly available labors could be used to purchase property, creating a new rung on the ladder of hierarchy. The common man would now strike back & regain it's respect.
But wouldn't you know it.
President Obama made good on all his promises. Thus, avoiding the biggest economic downturn of all times. & just as that turmoil leveled off, the swine flu turned out to be a distant, less aggressive cousin of the traditional flu. It even killed LESS people than the regular flu did last year. Two massive bummers in less than a month.
So, regardless of wishful thinking, I'm still stuck between "too much" & "not enough". I could almost taste the success. & it tasted like everything on the McDonald's 99 cents menu.
Monday, April 27, 2009
*cough* *cough* *oink*
According to the CDC, I should've have contracted HIV a couple of decades ago. Just by the sheer magnitude of the infection rate, I would've easily been that "1 in 4" to have it. Yesterday, I hung out with 3 of my "friends" for an entire day waiting for one of us to keel over or evaporate or something. No Dice.
From what the news pumped into our brains, the majority of my generation should have died off around 1995. Although I have zero friends who engage in "the love that dare not speak it's name" (google it) or use drugs intravenously, that's what "reports" had us to believe. But alas, here I am. No AIDS. & I have medical documents to back my statement, in case any one wants verification.
I've survived through that, & the rampant Bird flu a few years. Granted, the only birds I know on a personal level are at KFC, Popeye's, or El Pollo Loco & usually don't survive past the ride home (you know Black folk & their fried chickens), but they were birds nonetheless. I'm not sure, but I can only speculate on the rigorous security process they must go through to make sure the chickens are safe enough to be deep fry. The last pet bird I owned was when I was about 12. He eventually grow tired of water gun target practice & being confined to his poop-filled cage, so the first break of daylight he saw, he escaped & never looked back. I'm sure him, my guinea pig, my rabbit & dozens of goldfish are all resting comfortably in animal heaven, ruing the day I bought them. Yet, no Bird Flu over here, either.
Which leads me to the recent scare (nay, hysteria) in regards to the Swine Flu. Now, in theory a disease called the "Swine Flu" would trigger a hundred red flags at once in the Black community. Unless you're Muslim. Seriously, it's the closest thing to a staple part of our diets since Kool-Aid began being referred to as "juice". All the news reports boast "no deaths" in California, but if it were up to Black people, they still wouldn't stop eating swine, but just make sure that their Medi-cal covers the medication. Which, it probably doesn't.
Apparently, it's very similar to the (regular) flu, with all the traditional symptoms. In some cases, it's a little more aggressive than it's counterpart, but that's about it. We all know the News has a reputation of maximizing &/or minimizing stories. In that vein, we can either ignore it, keep our hands clean & go on with our daily lives. Or, grab a handful of gas mask, scoop up the kids & head for shelter with the rest of the healthy people. I, for one, won't be fleeing my city like Gommorah anytime soon, but today when a little boy coughed near me, I threw my tray of Burger King at him, did a shoulder-roll underneath a table & called 911. Can't ever be overly cautious, especially when the chance of catching a disease named after an animal that wallows in his own feces is on the loose. Last night, I offered a woman some tissue for her snot-nosed kid, & as soon as she took it I sprayed them both head to toe with industrial strength Lysol. Then I apologized, because I didn't mean to spray the little guy in the eyes.
I'm not sure what ramification would be worse; the illness itself or the backlash from Black people once they find out that they can no longer enjoy the sweet grease of a fatback sandwich after a slab of bacon & bag of pork rinds. Breakfast may never be the same. Bacon is almost a condiment in my family, right behind salt. Often the two meet in such a way that even the threat of Heart Disease can't stop their love. It's kind of like Diabetes is the joke we never got. Maybe such a flu wouldn't be all that bad.
I guess until folks start dropping dead, I won't take this supposed pandemic seriously either, just like all the other plagues I've lived through. I've survived the crack epidemic, gang violence, various strands of disease, so it only seems fitting that I flick my nose at this newest manifestation of mass hypnosis.
If I'm going to catch it, nothing's going to stop it anyway. But, we never know about these kinds of things. I've often heard of the pig's intelligence & resilience. Why wouldn't it's disease posess those same qualities? Just in case, I got those extra strength medical face masks 2 for $5. Holler at your boy.
From what the news pumped into our brains, the majority of my generation should have died off around 1995. Although I have zero friends who engage in "the love that dare not speak it's name" (google it) or use drugs intravenously, that's what "reports" had us to believe. But alas, here I am. No AIDS. & I have medical documents to back my statement, in case any one wants verification.
I've survived through that, & the rampant Bird flu a few years. Granted, the only birds I know on a personal level are at KFC, Popeye's, or El Pollo Loco & usually don't survive past the ride home (you know Black folk & their fried chickens), but they were birds nonetheless. I'm not sure, but I can only speculate on the rigorous security process they must go through to make sure the chickens are safe enough to be deep fry. The last pet bird I owned was when I was about 12. He eventually grow tired of water gun target practice & being confined to his poop-filled cage, so the first break of daylight he saw, he escaped & never looked back. I'm sure him, my guinea pig, my rabbit & dozens of goldfish are all resting comfortably in animal heaven, ruing the day I bought them. Yet, no Bird Flu over here, either.
Which leads me to the recent scare (nay, hysteria) in regards to the Swine Flu. Now, in theory a disease called the "Swine Flu" would trigger a hundred red flags at once in the Black community. Unless you're Muslim. Seriously, it's the closest thing to a staple part of our diets since Kool-Aid began being referred to as "juice". All the news reports boast "no deaths" in California, but if it were up to Black people, they still wouldn't stop eating swine, but just make sure that their Medi-cal covers the medication. Which, it probably doesn't.
Apparently, it's very similar to the (regular) flu, with all the traditional symptoms. In some cases, it's a little more aggressive than it's counterpart, but that's about it. We all know the News has a reputation of maximizing &/or minimizing stories. In that vein, we can either ignore it, keep our hands clean & go on with our daily lives. Or, grab a handful of gas mask, scoop up the kids & head for shelter with the rest of the healthy people. I, for one, won't be fleeing my city like Gommorah anytime soon, but today when a little boy coughed near me, I threw my tray of Burger King at him, did a shoulder-roll underneath a table & called 911. Can't ever be overly cautious, especially when the chance of catching a disease named after an animal that wallows in his own feces is on the loose. Last night, I offered a woman some tissue for her snot-nosed kid, & as soon as she took it I sprayed them both head to toe with industrial strength Lysol. Then I apologized, because I didn't mean to spray the little guy in the eyes.
I'm not sure what ramification would be worse; the illness itself or the backlash from Black people once they find out that they can no longer enjoy the sweet grease of a fatback sandwich after a slab of bacon & bag of pork rinds. Breakfast may never be the same. Bacon is almost a condiment in my family, right behind salt. Often the two meet in such a way that even the threat of Heart Disease can't stop their love. It's kind of like Diabetes is the joke we never got. Maybe such a flu wouldn't be all that bad.
I guess until folks start dropping dead, I won't take this supposed pandemic seriously either, just like all the other plagues I've lived through. I've survived the crack epidemic, gang violence, various strands of disease, so it only seems fitting that I flick my nose at this newest manifestation of mass hypnosis.
If I'm going to catch it, nothing's going to stop it anyway. But, we never know about these kinds of things. I've often heard of the pig's intelligence & resilience. Why wouldn't it's disease posess those same qualities? Just in case, I got those extra strength medical face masks 2 for $5. Holler at your boy.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Us(a) VS. Them
Call me old-fashioned, but I understand the plight of the "pirates".
I'm not sure where their exact home base is located, but I know they're not American. If they were, they wouldn't waste time negotiating ransoms & collecting hostages. That's not the American way. They'd jump aboard the ship, kill everyone on board, rape, pillage, plunder & leave with whatever wasn't bolted down.
Yep, that sounds about right.
Most likely, when they were done domesticating the captured vessel, they'd tow it back to shore & convert it to a cruise ship, gambling boat or some other money-driven endeavor designed to further fund the one-sided war being waged on the remainder of humanity. You know, everybody who wasn't/isn't American.
Instead, said "pirates" are an obvious band of vigilante refugees apparently fed-up with westernized thinking & conductivity (i.e. "Fuck you; this is rightfully ours no matter what you think & we dare you to do something about it!"). Westernized thinking that has left them a defeated, forgotten people. Lawless & desperate, it would appear that their abandonment issues have gotten the best of them; a prime example of the chickens coming home to roost.
Funny thing about oppression is that it's not savvy at all. Therefore, it's backlash is equally as, if not more so, treacherous. Europe was the main target in the seek & seizure exercises of the Somalians, but we had to expect that at some point the melee would spill over onto it's brother. Us(a). Whether or not we (America) played in active role in the proverbial destruction of their continent is unproven per se, but there's no convincing a man with a gun aimed at your head. You either hope God is as good as you thought or fight back. So, fight back it is.
President Obama (& every president before him) publicly stated that we don't negotiate with terrorists. We let the business end of a bullet do all the necessary talking. I'm on the fence about that, partly because I am American & love my country, & partly because the movie Amistad was about my people & I rooted for the slaves when they took over the ship.
So, who do I root for here? Had one of my relatives been aboard that Maersk cargo transporter when it was taken over, I could easily cheer for the red, white & blue. But they weren't. Not only do I love an underdog, but I love a rebel with a cause even more. I grew up listening to Chuck D telling me to "fight the power". Little did I knew at age 12 that the "power" I'd be fighting was the same power with unmitigated control over my life. & just think, the Somalians probably despise Pres. Obama even more than most Kenyans. They are waiting to attack his credibility on both continents.
For whatever reason, they didn't kill the captain. I think it was because deep down inside there's still a fear of white skin that predates any current social conflict. Had the captain been an American of African Descent, I don't think the Navy S.E.A.L.'s would have had the same opportunity at murder. Or justice, as we like to call it.
Hopefully, there will come a day when the world can get on the same page & put the word "mankind" to good use. We're still stuck on the "kind of man", so I don't see any change in the near future. Until that utopia is ascertained, expect things to worsen extensively.
I seriously doubt the next captain caught slipping will be so lucky.
I'm not sure where their exact home base is located, but I know they're not American. If they were, they wouldn't waste time negotiating ransoms & collecting hostages. That's not the American way. They'd jump aboard the ship, kill everyone on board, rape, pillage, plunder & leave with whatever wasn't bolted down.
Yep, that sounds about right.
Most likely, when they were done domesticating the captured vessel, they'd tow it back to shore & convert it to a cruise ship, gambling boat or some other money-driven endeavor designed to further fund the one-sided war being waged on the remainder of humanity. You know, everybody who wasn't/isn't American.
Instead, said "pirates" are an obvious band of vigilante refugees apparently fed-up with westernized thinking & conductivity (i.e. "Fuck you; this is rightfully ours no matter what you think & we dare you to do something about it!"). Westernized thinking that has left them a defeated, forgotten people. Lawless & desperate, it would appear that their abandonment issues have gotten the best of them; a prime example of the chickens coming home to roost.
Funny thing about oppression is that it's not savvy at all. Therefore, it's backlash is equally as, if not more so, treacherous. Europe was the main target in the seek & seizure exercises of the Somalians, but we had to expect that at some point the melee would spill over onto it's brother. Us(a). Whether or not we (America) played in active role in the proverbial destruction of their continent is unproven per se, but there's no convincing a man with a gun aimed at your head. You either hope God is as good as you thought or fight back. So, fight back it is.
President Obama (& every president before him) publicly stated that we don't negotiate with terrorists. We let the business end of a bullet do all the necessary talking. I'm on the fence about that, partly because I am American & love my country, & partly because the movie Amistad was about my people & I rooted for the slaves when they took over the ship.
So, who do I root for here? Had one of my relatives been aboard that Maersk cargo transporter when it was taken over, I could easily cheer for the red, white & blue. But they weren't. Not only do I love an underdog, but I love a rebel with a cause even more. I grew up listening to Chuck D telling me to "fight the power". Little did I knew at age 12 that the "power" I'd be fighting was the same power with unmitigated control over my life. & just think, the Somalians probably despise Pres. Obama even more than most Kenyans. They are waiting to attack his credibility on both continents.
For whatever reason, they didn't kill the captain. I think it was because deep down inside there's still a fear of white skin that predates any current social conflict. Had the captain been an American of African Descent, I don't think the Navy S.E.A.L.'s would have had the same opportunity at murder. Or justice, as we like to call it.
Hopefully, there will come a day when the world can get on the same page & put the word "mankind" to good use. We're still stuck on the "kind of man", so I don't see any change in the near future. Until that utopia is ascertained, expect things to worsen extensively.
I seriously doubt the next captain caught slipping will be so lucky.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
The (cyber)World Is A Ghetto
I was tooling through the slums of World Star Hip Hop the other day & when I was done gazing at the wondrous peaks & valleys of Ms. LaStarya & mindlessly partaking in the gratuitous amounts of nigganomics & coontrocities, I realized something; this is the urban legend that ignorance is built upon. A utopia of shuck & jive unlike any other known to Niggerdom. If I had no other avenue to which my "hip hop" sweet tooth was to be satisfied by, I'd be assed out, misguided, bamboozled, hoodwinked, etc.
Every other recording is a beef. Or a response to a beef. Or an outsiders point of view of some other beef. Or some lame duck has-been being interviewed about their pointless objectivity towards this weeks dead horse. As if hip hop needs more niggas dishing out opinions & personal philosophies. Somewhere in the muck & mire of testosterone, one can occasionally luck up on some funny ass mishap video, scantily clad thoroughbred or random dude freestyling in his mom's living room about how many ways to Sunday he'll blow holes through you. No Dice. If I want to see babies lip syncing the words to "We are the World", or some dude being dragged through a mud pit on the back of a Chevy pick-up, I'll visit YouTube on my lunch hour. I don't believe that WSHH intended to become the ghetto of the 'Nets, but it's now what BET once was between the wee hours of 2-4 a.m. 24 hours a day.
& correct me if I'm wrong, but are there ever any other races featured besides black folks? I can't recall ever stumbling over a white guy strumming his guitar or showcasing his kickflip/railslide prowess. I might have come across a gyrating white chick or two, but in that case the last thing I was looking for was skin tone. The videos, professional or user submitted, all look the same anyway; thousands of thugged out blunt rollers wearing eye-covering baseball hats & Elton John amounts of jewelry with the requisite unemployed pole straddler. & with rap music becoming so complacent & unoriginal, I usually don't even look at the artist's names unless there's valid reason to waste my time. Cats can talk all the "hipsters must die" shit they want, but that's the last thing I see on World Star. I wouldn't mind the hippie hop interlude to break up all the threats of violence, acts of stupidity & stretch-marked boobery.
Remember that episode of Dave Chapelle when the internet was a shopping mall? He never visted WSHH. It would've been niggas standing around smoking trees, watching stripper's bounce they assets for quarters while cats were getting knocked out to hip hop fight songs. The South Side of the mall, of course.
The unexplainable part about it is that I can't turn away. It's like a slow-motion car wreck. Or better yet, unprotected sex; once you start, it's hard to stop. Maybe they put crack in the transmission. Or the logo has hypnotic qualities. Whatever it is, I feel sorry for the impressionable tweenager who lives by the unremarkable standard set by this site.
I would hate for some adolescent from Zumunda to find WSHH & think that this is the best that American hip hop has to offer. It's no wonder that foreign countries are (& have been) so quick to blame the good ol' USA for the social problems they have. As far as OUR presentation goes, look at Exhibit A. There are dozens of good hip hop sites that give you the full gamut of the culture, & in case you've been under a rock or in a cave, WSHH ain't one of them.
Every other recording is a beef. Or a response to a beef. Or an outsiders point of view of some other beef. Or some lame duck has-been being interviewed about their pointless objectivity towards this weeks dead horse. As if hip hop needs more niggas dishing out opinions & personal philosophies. Somewhere in the muck & mire of testosterone, one can occasionally luck up on some funny ass mishap video, scantily clad thoroughbred or random dude freestyling in his mom's living room about how many ways to Sunday he'll blow holes through you. No Dice. If I want to see babies lip syncing the words to "We are the World", or some dude being dragged through a mud pit on the back of a Chevy pick-up, I'll visit YouTube on my lunch hour. I don't believe that WSHH intended to become the ghetto of the 'Nets, but it's now what BET once was between the wee hours of 2-4 a.m. 24 hours a day.
& correct me if I'm wrong, but are there ever any other races featured besides black folks? I can't recall ever stumbling over a white guy strumming his guitar or showcasing his kickflip/railslide prowess. I might have come across a gyrating white chick or two, but in that case the last thing I was looking for was skin tone. The videos, professional or user submitted, all look the same anyway; thousands of thugged out blunt rollers wearing eye-covering baseball hats & Elton John amounts of jewelry with the requisite unemployed pole straddler. & with rap music becoming so complacent & unoriginal, I usually don't even look at the artist's names unless there's valid reason to waste my time. Cats can talk all the "hipsters must die" shit they want, but that's the last thing I see on World Star. I wouldn't mind the hippie hop interlude to break up all the threats of violence, acts of stupidity & stretch-marked boobery.
Remember that episode of Dave Chapelle when the internet was a shopping mall? He never visted WSHH. It would've been niggas standing around smoking trees, watching stripper's bounce they assets for quarters while cats were getting knocked out to hip hop fight songs. The South Side of the mall, of course.
The unexplainable part about it is that I can't turn away. It's like a slow-motion car wreck. Or better yet, unprotected sex; once you start, it's hard to stop. Maybe they put crack in the transmission. Or the logo has hypnotic qualities. Whatever it is, I feel sorry for the impressionable tweenager who lives by the unremarkable standard set by this site.
I would hate for some adolescent from Zumunda to find WSHH & think that this is the best that American hip hop has to offer. It's no wonder that foreign countries are (& have been) so quick to blame the good ol' USA for the social problems they have. As far as OUR presentation goes, look at Exhibit A. There are dozens of good hip hop sites that give you the full gamut of the culture, & in case you've been under a rock or in a cave, WSHH ain't one of them.
Monday, March 30, 2009
(no) Dollar Dollar Bill(s) Yall
I just realized (a couple of weeks ago) that this "economic crisis" isn't really affecting me.
It's not that my scratch is long, or my dollar game is that heavy; it's actually the exact opposite. The saying goes "you don't miss what you never had" (or something like that), & unless I'm mistaken, there aren't any exceptions to that rule. With that said, there's never been a time in my life that I was especially burdened with skrilla. I think the most money I've ever actually physically touched, counted, smelled, had sex on, etc., at one time, was about $10,000. Technically speaking, that's not even enough to buy/drive a brand new whip off the lot. Maybe Hyundai/Daewoo "brand new", but not Honda/Toyota "brand new". & I was young, that money didn't make it past a month. It was that age where moolah, like sperm, was dished out in generous proportions with no regard to the possible outcome. I can still remember buying a beat-down '69 Volkswagen Bug with the last 900 bucks of that cash I had. Damn, I don't even have that car anymore. I wrapped it around some Hispanic dudes fender.
Memories.
So, in this, a time of financial chaos, I find a sense of comfort in my tax bracket. I wouldn't classify my status as "hand to mouth", but I'm not mad at AIG or that Madoff dude, either. It's kind of like the time when you were a kid & your dad/uncle/older brother knew a guy who was literally rich. Seeing his house, cars, & women gave you a feeling you didn't understand as a child, but later grew to realize that deeply-rooted "playa hatin'" is what you experienced. Upon further investigation (re: nosing), you came to see how hard his life was. Doing whatever it was he did to make that money, the maintenance of all his shiny things, the amount of his respective bills, the toll it took on his personal life, & in an odd turn of events you figured out that it sucks to be him. Lower-middle class didn't seem so bad. Plus, by that time, you grown accustomed to the 99 cent value menu. I know I sure did.
I was raised moderately middle class anyway, a "latch key kid", so the phrase "we can't afford it" became as leisurely as "it's unnecessary", subsequently my notion of the difference between needs & wants was formed at an early age. One year I asked my Dad where were our Christmas lights. He turned & looked at the living room lamp & said "You see those lights?" I nodded my head yes & he said "They're not free. Merry Christmas". Only now do I truly understand that he wasn't being a sarcastic jerk, but a hard working man who did the best he could for a couple of kids & a wife that he probably never intended on having in the first place.
Besides, it could always be worse. Which is a dichotomy of sorts because, think about it, your situation at some point is the "worse" somebody is using as their moment of clarity. Consider it the chain of misfortune; as surely as you're looking to your right at the guy with no shoes, the dude to your left is looking at your old winter coat. It would appear to be one of those times in life where complacency is a gift & a curse. Even still, at least I HAD shoes.
It's no wonder people are purposely working less hours & having more babies. What better way to stick it to the "man" than by playing the game according to the rules he introduced?
Tax return season just got a little more dangerous.
I've never been [close to] rich, & I seriously doubt that I'll ever be [anywhere near] rich. So be it. The social Gods have spoken.
It's not that my scratch is long, or my dollar game is that heavy; it's actually the exact opposite. The saying goes "you don't miss what you never had" (or something like that), & unless I'm mistaken, there aren't any exceptions to that rule. With that said, there's never been a time in my life that I was especially burdened with skrilla. I think the most money I've ever actually physically touched, counted, smelled, had sex on, etc., at one time, was about $10,000. Technically speaking, that's not even enough to buy/drive a brand new whip off the lot. Maybe Hyundai/Daewoo "brand new", but not Honda/Toyota "brand new". & I was young, that money didn't make it past a month. It was that age where moolah, like sperm, was dished out in generous proportions with no regard to the possible outcome. I can still remember buying a beat-down '69 Volkswagen Bug with the last 900 bucks of that cash I had. Damn, I don't even have that car anymore. I wrapped it around some Hispanic dudes fender.
Memories.
So, in this, a time of financial chaos, I find a sense of comfort in my tax bracket. I wouldn't classify my status as "hand to mouth", but I'm not mad at AIG or that Madoff dude, either. It's kind of like the time when you were a kid & your dad/uncle/older brother knew a guy who was literally rich. Seeing his house, cars, & women gave you a feeling you didn't understand as a child, but later grew to realize that deeply-rooted "playa hatin'" is what you experienced. Upon further investigation (re: nosing), you came to see how hard his life was. Doing whatever it was he did to make that money, the maintenance of all his shiny things, the amount of his respective bills, the toll it took on his personal life, & in an odd turn of events you figured out that it sucks to be him. Lower-middle class didn't seem so bad. Plus, by that time, you grown accustomed to the 99 cent value menu. I know I sure did.
I was raised moderately middle class anyway, a "latch key kid", so the phrase "we can't afford it" became as leisurely as "it's unnecessary", subsequently my notion of the difference between needs & wants was formed at an early age. One year I asked my Dad where were our Christmas lights. He turned & looked at the living room lamp & said "You see those lights?" I nodded my head yes & he said "They're not free. Merry Christmas". Only now do I truly understand that he wasn't being a sarcastic jerk, but a hard working man who did the best he could for a couple of kids & a wife that he probably never intended on having in the first place.
Besides, it could always be worse. Which is a dichotomy of sorts because, think about it, your situation at some point is the "worse" somebody is using as their moment of clarity. Consider it the chain of misfortune; as surely as you're looking to your right at the guy with no shoes, the dude to your left is looking at your old winter coat. It would appear to be one of those times in life where complacency is a gift & a curse. Even still, at least I HAD shoes.
It's no wonder people are purposely working less hours & having more babies. What better way to stick it to the "man" than by playing the game according to the rules he introduced?
Tax return season just got a little more dangerous.
I've never been [close to] rich, & I seriously doubt that I'll ever be [anywhere near] rich. So be it. The social Gods have spoken.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Monkey Business
My least favorite movie of all time is Dr. Dolittle. It could be my detachment from the animal kingdom, or my lack of enthusiasm for what has become of Eddie Murphy's golden years. Either way, I can overlook Eddie's half-assed attempts at cinema, but not the worldwide love for all things furry.
Aside from infants, I don't trust any creature that can't communicate with me. Barking, hissing, growling, & chirping don't count. Any being that can "go to the bathroom" anywhere, clearly isn't worthy of my friendship. & as far as companionship, that's what God created television for. I've never had to swat my TV for making a "poo" in the corner, or chewing up my good pair of Sunday shoes.
So, I'm extremely fascinated with those individuals who cater to animals like they're people. Namely wild animals. Specifically primates. We'll just refer to them as monkeys.
Human & monkey genetics are only different by one gene. Apparently it's the one that counts, because no matter how much they're embraced as our social kin, they continue to behave in a fashion that demands a caged environment. We can dress them up as people, give them roles in movies (watch out Eddie!), teach them neat tricks like how to drive cars & smoke cigarettes, but as soon as the chance avails itself they'll be flinging feces & trying to eat babies in a heartbeat.
Most people don't realize the strength that even small monkey's possess. An average sized one can rip a grown man's arm from it's rotator cup with minimal effort. Their teeth are larger & sharper than that goofy looking kid that sat in the back of your geometry class. The ones we see on television have usually gone through some sort of mani/pedi, so most are unaware of the claws their huge hands have. Basically, if Death were lovable & furry, it would look like a monkey.
Bears are cute too, until they decided that they are having liver for dinner. Your liver.
I can't help but chuckle lightly when I see some poor schlub mauled by their pet orangutan, or disfigured by their spidermonkey named "Ralphie". These are beasts, by God's decree, otherwise we'd all be animals, or all be people.
In some far of galaxy, maybe people are kept in zoo's for the enjoyment of animal families, but I don't live in that one. I live in this one, where a woman's best friend has suffered "life-altering" injuries at the hands of her pet monkey. In other words, the thing probably bite off half her face, & maybe a digit or three. That is utterly amazing.
Reports say that the owner not only referred to the animal as "her son", but she also drank wine with it, & gave it Xanax for whatever ailments it suffered from. When the woman's friend attempted to visit it, it did what any drunken, drug-filled wild animal would do. Attack. Notice the repeated usage of the term "it", due to the fact that animals are "it"s. There is no gray area. Regardless of some human-given moniker, God called it "ooh ooh ahh ahh", not "Bo Bo" or "Sally".
Usually, I facilitate a degree of compassion for those harmed unintentionally, but this situation is out of my jurisdiction.
An adult human with stable motor & cognitive skill can't be given a handgun without fear of homicide, so why assume some gorilla larva is going to play nice with the children. My kid's are lobbying for cats & dogs to no avail, so I'll be damned if I allow something in my living quarters that can murder us 17 different ways AND eat all my snacks.
Wake up America. It's in the #1 best selling book of all times. We lord over animals because they are not our equals. Get with the program or we will continue to be target practice for bubbles & his less friendly relatives.
Aside from infants, I don't trust any creature that can't communicate with me. Barking, hissing, growling, & chirping don't count. Any being that can "go to the bathroom" anywhere, clearly isn't worthy of my friendship. & as far as companionship, that's what God created television for. I've never had to swat my TV for making a "poo" in the corner, or chewing up my good pair of Sunday shoes.
So, I'm extremely fascinated with those individuals who cater to animals like they're people. Namely wild animals. Specifically primates. We'll just refer to them as monkeys.
Human & monkey genetics are only different by one gene. Apparently it's the one that counts, because no matter how much they're embraced as our social kin, they continue to behave in a fashion that demands a caged environment. We can dress them up as people, give them roles in movies (watch out Eddie!), teach them neat tricks like how to drive cars & smoke cigarettes, but as soon as the chance avails itself they'll be flinging feces & trying to eat babies in a heartbeat.
Most people don't realize the strength that even small monkey's possess. An average sized one can rip a grown man's arm from it's rotator cup with minimal effort. Their teeth are larger & sharper than that goofy looking kid that sat in the back of your geometry class. The ones we see on television have usually gone through some sort of mani/pedi, so most are unaware of the claws their huge hands have. Basically, if Death were lovable & furry, it would look like a monkey.
Bears are cute too, until they decided that they are having liver for dinner. Your liver.
I can't help but chuckle lightly when I see some poor schlub mauled by their pet orangutan, or disfigured by their spidermonkey named "Ralphie". These are beasts, by God's decree, otherwise we'd all be animals, or all be people.
In some far of galaxy, maybe people are kept in zoo's for the enjoyment of animal families, but I don't live in that one. I live in this one, where a woman's best friend has suffered "life-altering" injuries at the hands of her pet monkey. In other words, the thing probably bite off half her face, & maybe a digit or three. That is utterly amazing.
Reports say that the owner not only referred to the animal as "her son", but she also drank wine with it, & gave it Xanax for whatever ailments it suffered from. When the woman's friend attempted to visit it, it did what any drunken, drug-filled wild animal would do. Attack. Notice the repeated usage of the term "it", due to the fact that animals are "it"s. There is no gray area. Regardless of some human-given moniker, God called it "ooh ooh ahh ahh", not "Bo Bo" or "Sally".
Usually, I facilitate a degree of compassion for those harmed unintentionally, but this situation is out of my jurisdiction.
An adult human with stable motor & cognitive skill can't be given a handgun without fear of homicide, so why assume some gorilla larva is going to play nice with the children. My kid's are lobbying for cats & dogs to no avail, so I'll be damned if I allow something in my living quarters that can murder us 17 different ways AND eat all my snacks.
Wake up America. It's in the #1 best selling book of all times. We lord over animals because they are not our equals. Get with the program or we will continue to be target practice for bubbles & his less friendly relatives.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Mere Mortals
"You got knocked the kcuf out!" - Chris Tucker as Smokey in "Friday"
~
Being an entertainer has to be quite the auspicious lifestyle. Capitalizing on people's fantasies seems like a good idea, but where does the public's lust for the unreal end & the artist's actuality begin. Contrary to popular belief, celebrity doesn't ostracize one from the real world. Nor does it give "real" people an excuse for existing in some uncanny, alternate universe just because they're fans of their "art".
Entertainment is meant to appease the part of our brain that becomes racked with the doldrums of everyday life. We spend our hard-earned money to pretend we don't have mouths to feed & bills to pay. That doesn't mean I have to succumb to the ridiculous nature of the beast.
Or does it?
One can speculate for days on end as to exactly why 50 cent & Rick Ross hate/enamor each other so much. Their "feud" has become very open, & has transgressed far beyond the limits of simply making songs. It has spilled out into their personal lives at such a rate that some sort of physical altercation is seemingly inevitable. What was once a silly rap dude conflict has begun pulling relatives into the fray on the world's most public of forums, the Internet. For the most part, such behavior on both of their parts, in the real world, would have gotten one, if not both of them killed in the street.
Is their career the reason for the conflict, or is conflict the reason for their career? Life imitates art, indeed. & vice versa.
All rumor mill wind-blowing aside, Chris Brown beat up his girlfriend Rihanna. So what? It happens everyday, in all classes & races & ethnicities. The point of interest should be in the public's reaction, not Brown's reaction to whatever made him lose his cool in the first place. Just because he can sing & dance, & teenage girls think he's "sooooo kah-yoot" doesn't mean that he doesn't put his pants on one leg at a time. Although, judging by his flipping & spinning antics, he may just slide across the bed into the awaiting jeans, but I digress. He's apparently achieved super-human status & can do no wrong according to the consensus. As soon as he makes a mistake (as humans often do), he's knocked from his pedestal into the jaws of the vicious everyman. Why was he up there so high in the first place? He's a regular guy, with a couple of attributes that make him slightly more interesting than the garbage man.
Just because one sings a love song doesn't mean they know how to love. Just as one who knows how to love isn't necessarily qualified to make a song about it.
Suge Knight has supposedly received another beatdown over the weekend at the hands of someone who most folks know nothing about. Who won or lost is relative to nothing. Not to mention that I couldn't care any less without being dead. He spent the better part of a 15 year stint as a music mogul building a menacing reputation as the wrong aggin to kcuf with. To this day, rumors still swirl of his cigar scented tirades & backhand slapping of his artists. Now, Suge is a shell of the former "boss" he once was, reviled & revered at the same time. All that remains is ruin & myth. Was he the domestic terrorist the world perceived him to be, or did we buy into his uberbad guy image for the sake of needing one to love? The dismembering of his business venture(s) caused his facade to be broken, & in a matter of years his persona went from unapproachable to unnecessary. Maybe all the rhetoric about himself went to his head, but what normal person wouldn't thrive from such conspiracies? Most men would, & once the nectar is tasted, few things are sweeter.
Is he now getting attacked because he's been weakened, or was he always (more or less) weak with no one willing to attack?
All genres of this industry are susceptible to the same plague of superheroitis, & we, as spectators, lose focus that these are just characters who parade for us & broadcast their lives for money. Mere mortals, nothing more, nothing less. I'm not sure if I'd allow myself to be the bull's eye of such scrutiny.
But then again, for the right price, I might cut off my thumb on YouTube.
~
Being an entertainer has to be quite the auspicious lifestyle. Capitalizing on people's fantasies seems like a good idea, but where does the public's lust for the unreal end & the artist's actuality begin. Contrary to popular belief, celebrity doesn't ostracize one from the real world. Nor does it give "real" people an excuse for existing in some uncanny, alternate universe just because they're fans of their "art".
Entertainment is meant to appease the part of our brain that becomes racked with the doldrums of everyday life. We spend our hard-earned money to pretend we don't have mouths to feed & bills to pay. That doesn't mean I have to succumb to the ridiculous nature of the beast.
Or does it?
One can speculate for days on end as to exactly why 50 cent & Rick Ross hate/enamor each other so much. Their "feud" has become very open, & has transgressed far beyond the limits of simply making songs. It has spilled out into their personal lives at such a rate that some sort of physical altercation is seemingly inevitable. What was once a silly rap dude conflict has begun pulling relatives into the fray on the world's most public of forums, the Internet. For the most part, such behavior on both of their parts, in the real world, would have gotten one, if not both of them killed in the street.
Is their career the reason for the conflict, or is conflict the reason for their career? Life imitates art, indeed. & vice versa.
All rumor mill wind-blowing aside, Chris Brown beat up his girlfriend Rihanna. So what? It happens everyday, in all classes & races & ethnicities. The point of interest should be in the public's reaction, not Brown's reaction to whatever made him lose his cool in the first place. Just because he can sing & dance, & teenage girls think he's "sooooo kah-yoot" doesn't mean that he doesn't put his pants on one leg at a time. Although, judging by his flipping & spinning antics, he may just slide across the bed into the awaiting jeans, but I digress. He's apparently achieved super-human status & can do no wrong according to the consensus. As soon as he makes a mistake (as humans often do), he's knocked from his pedestal into the jaws of the vicious everyman. Why was he up there so high in the first place? He's a regular guy, with a couple of attributes that make him slightly more interesting than the garbage man.
Just because one sings a love song doesn't mean they know how to love. Just as one who knows how to love isn't necessarily qualified to make a song about it.
Suge Knight has supposedly received another beatdown over the weekend at the hands of someone who most folks know nothing about. Who won or lost is relative to nothing. Not to mention that I couldn't care any less without being dead. He spent the better part of a 15 year stint as a music mogul building a menacing reputation as the wrong aggin to kcuf with. To this day, rumors still swirl of his cigar scented tirades & backhand slapping of his artists. Now, Suge is a shell of the former "boss" he once was, reviled & revered at the same time. All that remains is ruin & myth. Was he the domestic terrorist the world perceived him to be, or did we buy into his uberbad guy image for the sake of needing one to love? The dismembering of his business venture(s) caused his facade to be broken, & in a matter of years his persona went from unapproachable to unnecessary. Maybe all the rhetoric about himself went to his head, but what normal person wouldn't thrive from such conspiracies? Most men would, & once the nectar is tasted, few things are sweeter.
Is he now getting attacked because he's been weakened, or was he always (more or less) weak with no one willing to attack?
All genres of this industry are susceptible to the same plague of superheroitis, & we, as spectators, lose focus that these are just characters who parade for us & broadcast their lives for money. Mere mortals, nothing more, nothing less. I'm not sure if I'd allow myself to be the bull's eye of such scrutiny.
But then again, for the right price, I might cut off my thumb on YouTube.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
**Babies 'R' Us: UPDATE**
Earlier this week, I made the following statement in blog post "Babies 'R' Us" regarding the mother who gave birth to the 8 babies, Nadya Suleman:
"She should expect petitions, rallies, boycotts, & possibly her very own personalized wave of hate crime. By no means am I wishing that upon her family, but..........."
This morning, it was reported that her & the six children she already had have gone into hiding, due to numerous threats of violence & death.
It may have something to do with the intricate, professionally designed website that has been launched, complete with Pay Pal for "donations", as we, the American public, continue to foot her tribe's bill(s).
I don't even have a credit card scanner program on here, & the recession is definitely taking a toll on my sunflower seeds & Cactus Cooler stipend. Her quest for fame won't be as easy as she hoped.
I hate (pun intended) to congratulate my inner psychic, or pat my self on the back, but I think I just dislocated my shoulder. & I knew it was about to happen, so I had a tube of Ben Gay (no pun intended) on standby.
For any further insight, see "Babies 'R' Us" blog post, or just watch the news. Whatever idiotic twists this bizarre tale can take, I've probably covered it ahead of time, & since I'm not the modest type, I'll save us all some time by saying "Ha Ha! I knew it! I told you so!" now instead of later.
"She should expect petitions, rallies, boycotts, & possibly her very own personalized wave of hate crime. By no means am I wishing that upon her family, but..........."
This morning, it was reported that her & the six children she already had have gone into hiding, due to numerous threats of violence & death.
It may have something to do with the intricate, professionally designed website that has been launched, complete with Pay Pal for "donations", as we, the American public, continue to foot her tribe's bill(s).
I don't even have a credit card scanner program on here, & the recession is definitely taking a toll on my sunflower seeds & Cactus Cooler stipend. Her quest for fame won't be as easy as she hoped.
I hate (pun intended) to congratulate my inner psychic, or pat my self on the back, but I think I just dislocated my shoulder. & I knew it was about to happen, so I had a tube of Ben Gay (no pun intended) on standby.
For any further insight, see "Babies 'R' Us" blog post, or just watch the news. Whatever idiotic twists this bizarre tale can take, I've probably covered it ahead of time, & since I'm not the modest type, I'll save us all some time by saying "Ha Ha! I knew it! I told you so!" now instead of later.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Chris VS Rihanna
Apparently, R&B singer Rihanna was assaulted by current beau pop sensation Chris Brown.
At press time, details were limited, but allegedly early Sunday morning Brown attacked the songstress leaving visible injuries. A passer by phoned 911, but when the authorities arrived, Brown was not on the scene. He later turned himself in to the LAPD's Wilshire station, was booked then released on $50,000 bail.
The supposed assault took place in Hancock Park, CA, after an argument between the couple became physical.
The two performers were slated to perform respectively at the evening's Grammy awards, but both failed to show up.
Upon hearing this news, after I stopped gaffawing hysterically, a couple of thoughts entered my mind. The first, most important one was "Isn't that dude gay?". I've rarely seen him exude any more masculinity than my 8 year old daughter. I'm even willing to bet my weather-beaten liver that my daughter can probably beat him at arm wrestling as well. Granted, he's only 19, but there should still be a hint of machismo in his infrastructure. & that tattoo behind his ear isn't helping his case at all.
Maybe I'm hating because I can't sing or dance, but I think its more a case of him not triggering my hetero-dar (if "they" can have 'gay-dar', then "we" can have 'hetero-dar'). Or it could just be the stereotypical attitude black men have passed down for generations, "never trust a black man without a mustache". Can a hairless upper lip even qualify one to be a part of the prestigious "black men" brotherhood? If the answer is no, then surely beating his mate in public does. So, by that token, Chris Brown has taken one step further from me second guessing his sexual preference.
The following thought, which prompted more hysterical, bordering on maniacal laughter was, "Why didn't she just kick his ass?". I've seen her videos, & far be it from me to assume that I'm the only person who suspects her Adam's Apple gets photoshopped out of her pictures. She actually looks fully capable of being a body double for Chris Brown, if he were to ever star in an adrenaline-fueled motion picture. For some reason though, unless it involves dancing knife fights, I doubt that will ever happen. For what it's worth, if either of the two were to get "domesticated", I'd automatically assume her to be the aggressor. & all those songs about cars isn't helping her case at all.
I don't condone domestic violence, but sometimes, I understand. Maybe he's mad that he's flipping & spinning around in commercials hawking chewing gum, & accepting less than memorable roles in less than stellar movies to make ends meet, while she's literally blowing all the musical competition off of the Billboard's 200 from the sheer strength of her vocals. That, & the fact that she looks like she can beat up every female in her league (except for maybe Keyshia Cole & Fantasia).
Maybe he had too many Cosmopolitans that night. Or the apple Martini's were extra strong. Either way, now he faces felony charges, & doesn't appear to be the jailhouse type. I'd pay money to see him dance his way out of cell block 4.
When the smoke clears, he'll walk away with the proverbial slap on the wrist, she'll forgive him, & it will disappear from the memories of fans & participants alike. But until then, let us all have a good chuckle, & thank our lucky stars that at least he didn't get all OJ-y on her.
At press time, details were limited, but allegedly early Sunday morning Brown attacked the songstress leaving visible injuries. A passer by phoned 911, but when the authorities arrived, Brown was not on the scene. He later turned himself in to the LAPD's Wilshire station, was booked then released on $50,000 bail.
The supposed assault took place in Hancock Park, CA, after an argument between the couple became physical.
The two performers were slated to perform respectively at the evening's Grammy awards, but both failed to show up.
Upon hearing this news, after I stopped gaffawing hysterically, a couple of thoughts entered my mind. The first, most important one was "Isn't that dude gay?". I've rarely seen him exude any more masculinity than my 8 year old daughter. I'm even willing to bet my weather-beaten liver that my daughter can probably beat him at arm wrestling as well. Granted, he's only 19, but there should still be a hint of machismo in his infrastructure. & that tattoo behind his ear isn't helping his case at all.
Maybe I'm hating because I can't sing or dance, but I think its more a case of him not triggering my hetero-dar (if "they" can have 'gay-dar', then "we" can have 'hetero-dar'). Or it could just be the stereotypical attitude black men have passed down for generations, "never trust a black man without a mustache". Can a hairless upper lip even qualify one to be a part of the prestigious "black men" brotherhood? If the answer is no, then surely beating his mate in public does. So, by that token, Chris Brown has taken one step further from me second guessing his sexual preference.
The following thought, which prompted more hysterical, bordering on maniacal laughter was, "Why didn't she just kick his ass?". I've seen her videos, & far be it from me to assume that I'm the only person who suspects her Adam's Apple gets photoshopped out of her pictures. She actually looks fully capable of being a body double for Chris Brown, if he were to ever star in an adrenaline-fueled motion picture. For some reason though, unless it involves dancing knife fights, I doubt that will ever happen. For what it's worth, if either of the two were to get "domesticated", I'd automatically assume her to be the aggressor. & all those songs about cars isn't helping her case at all.
I don't condone domestic violence, but sometimes, I understand. Maybe he's mad that he's flipping & spinning around in commercials hawking chewing gum, & accepting less than memorable roles in less than stellar movies to make ends meet, while she's literally blowing all the musical competition off of the Billboard's 200 from the sheer strength of her vocals. That, & the fact that she looks like she can beat up every female in her league (except for maybe Keyshia Cole & Fantasia).
Maybe he had too many Cosmopolitans that night. Or the apple Martini's were extra strong. Either way, now he faces felony charges, & doesn't appear to be the jailhouse type. I'd pay money to see him dance his way out of cell block 4.
When the smoke clears, he'll walk away with the proverbial slap on the wrist, she'll forgive him, & it will disappear from the memories of fans & participants alike. But until then, let us all have a good chuckle, & thank our lucky stars that at least he didn't get all OJ-y on her.
Babies 'R' Us
What's the deal with this 'octuplets' lady?
All racially-charged jokes aside, she already had six children, & knowingly had a medically-enhanced pregnancy, well aware of the possible ramifications of such a procedure. Now, carrying eight babies-to-be is in & of itself quite the task, but to have six crumbsnatchers prior? Did she run out of chores for the kids she already reared? Did some childhood trauma take such a toll on her that she's decided to punish her uterus indefinitely? Is loneliness still a problem with the internet so easily accessible?
I have a million & one questions, with no answers in sight.
She recently began speaking publicly about the ordeal, & not to discredit her or whatever public school system she's alumni of, but, she just doesn't seem like the brightest crayon in the box. Not because of the predicament she's gotten herself into, but just because. I don't even know of any rappers/basketball players/"actual" sperm donors that have fourteen offsprings (I'm not too sure about Shawn Kemp, though).
Now, would some sort of psychic evaluation, after child number 6, have prevented the multiple additions to her family?
Possibly.
Is it at all possible that, somewhere during the whole process, a clinically certified therapist could have helped her deviate from such a plan?
Probably not.
The law of the land states "stupid is as stupid does", so any "stupidity" obviously predicated her sex life, however lascivious. She would have just kept at the unprotected intercourse method until she meet her baby quota, or her vagina decided it had had enough & closed it's door for good.
For all intents & purposes, a big family is a beautiful thing. A blessing, in the truest sense of the word. Realistically speaking, living with your parents with six kids & a failed marriage under your belt seems like enough deterrent for further pro creation. At least until that magical lotto number drops into your lap.
If her parents ever wondered what kind of a job they did raising their daughter, they now have an obvious answer, in the form of the biggest "kcuf you" since the Menedez brothers.
The famous old adage says "it takes a village to raise a child". This woman may have singlehandedly added a line to that. "But it takes a nation to raise a village." There's no excuse or reason for one single (single, as in manless) woman to want that many children. The loneliest spinster I know has 9 CATS, & the entire neighborhood labeled her a mental case, so imagine the chatter amongst the people who live on Octogirl's street. She should expect petitions, rallies, boycotts, & possibly her very own personalized wave of hate crime. By no means am I wishing that upon her family, but I'm a tenant of the real world & statistically, her children possess the propensity to be their own street gang.
*Disclaimer: I am not a racist, but I'm required by unwritten law to release the following statement*
I'm glad it wasn't a black woman.
We must also take into consideration how the children are going to feel growing up having to share their one & only parent with thirteen other human beings, not counting the inevitable (but ill advised) booty calls & hovering relatives. There have been reports of strangers donating breast milk to the family in attempts to contribute to her cause. Call me old-fashioned, but their lives are off to a very creepy start.
If this was a ploy to become rich & famous, I think it would have been much easier to plow an SUV into a day care, & then eat a .45 slug. That way, all previous responsibilities would have been passed along to the remaining family members. Not to mention, no dirty diapers to change.
This is, in the most awkward of ways, an uphill battle for this courageous woman. At the very least, her kids will one day totally run JDH, eventually graduating to an entire pod at the local jail being named after them. At the most, she owns a future sports franchise. Soccer or baseball would be my guess.
Good luck, stay strong & God bless whatever babysitter is desperate enough to answer that Craig's List ad.
All racially-charged jokes aside, she already had six children, & knowingly had a medically-enhanced pregnancy, well aware of the possible ramifications of such a procedure. Now, carrying eight babies-to-be is in & of itself quite the task, but to have six crumbsnatchers prior? Did she run out of chores for the kids she already reared? Did some childhood trauma take such a toll on her that she's decided to punish her uterus indefinitely? Is loneliness still a problem with the internet so easily accessible?
I have a million & one questions, with no answers in sight.
She recently began speaking publicly about the ordeal, & not to discredit her or whatever public school system she's alumni of, but, she just doesn't seem like the brightest crayon in the box. Not because of the predicament she's gotten herself into, but just because. I don't even know of any rappers/basketball players/"actual" sperm donors that have fourteen offsprings (I'm not too sure about Shawn Kemp, though).
Now, would some sort of psychic evaluation, after child number 6, have prevented the multiple additions to her family?
Possibly.
Is it at all possible that, somewhere during the whole process, a clinically certified therapist could have helped her deviate from such a plan?
Probably not.
The law of the land states "stupid is as stupid does", so any "stupidity" obviously predicated her sex life, however lascivious. She would have just kept at the unprotected intercourse method until she meet her baby quota, or her vagina decided it had had enough & closed it's door for good.
For all intents & purposes, a big family is a beautiful thing. A blessing, in the truest sense of the word. Realistically speaking, living with your parents with six kids & a failed marriage under your belt seems like enough deterrent for further pro creation. At least until that magical lotto number drops into your lap.
If her parents ever wondered what kind of a job they did raising their daughter, they now have an obvious answer, in the form of the biggest "kcuf you" since the Menedez brothers.
The famous old adage says "it takes a village to raise a child". This woman may have singlehandedly added a line to that. "But it takes a nation to raise a village." There's no excuse or reason for one single (single, as in manless) woman to want that many children. The loneliest spinster I know has 9 CATS, & the entire neighborhood labeled her a mental case, so imagine the chatter amongst the people who live on Octogirl's street. She should expect petitions, rallies, boycotts, & possibly her very own personalized wave of hate crime. By no means am I wishing that upon her family, but I'm a tenant of the real world & statistically, her children possess the propensity to be their own street gang.
*Disclaimer: I am not a racist, but I'm required by unwritten law to release the following statement*
I'm glad it wasn't a black woman.
We must also take into consideration how the children are going to feel growing up having to share their one & only parent with thirteen other human beings, not counting the inevitable (but ill advised) booty calls & hovering relatives. There have been reports of strangers donating breast milk to the family in attempts to contribute to her cause. Call me old-fashioned, but their lives are off to a very creepy start.
If this was a ploy to become rich & famous, I think it would have been much easier to plow an SUV into a day care, & then eat a .45 slug. That way, all previous responsibilities would have been passed along to the remaining family members. Not to mention, no dirty diapers to change.
This is, in the most awkward of ways, an uphill battle for this courageous woman. At the very least, her kids will one day totally run JDH, eventually graduating to an entire pod at the local jail being named after them. At the most, she owns a future sports franchise. Soccer or baseball would be my guess.
Good luck, stay strong & God bless whatever babysitter is desperate enough to answer that Craig's List ad.
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