Bites, Barks, & All Things In Between

I've never considered myself a "man's man" per se. I've always opted to take more of a Jerkwater approach to masculinity. Armchair coach, back seat driver, that sort of thing. Although, getting a women pregnant is possibly the manliest thing one can do, & I've done that a few times. Thats said, I don't know a lot about football, & even less about boxing. What I do know about boxing though, is that Mike Tyson finally snapped. For those of you too young to remember Mike when he was literally an animal, back in the late 80's, this man's fights would generally last less than about 3 minutes. That old joke, "Two hits. I hit you, you hit the floor" may have be born of Mike's aggression. Some blamed it on his trainer back then, Cus D'Amato, but I'm more apt to say, "Giving a crazy nigga gloves doesn't make him less crazy, just gives him a reason to hit harder!". When I saw Mike broken down to tears on Oprah Windbag-I mean Winfrey's Couch of Despair, all I could think about was DMX's upcoming fight & how he probably should've been a boxer to begin with.


In order to be a boxer (fuck skill, talent, strength & detachment from all things human such as pain & emotion), one must be a certifiable psychopath. If DMX has proven anything to us since he first album, it's that he's crazier than a paralyzed nymphomaniac in a strip club. Nuttier than a Gay Rights protest march. This dude had the music world on it's ear, releasing 2 million-plus selling albums in a year's time, back in the late-90's. This was a time when if someone said they rapped, it actually meant something. Earl Simmons p/k/a Dark Man 'X' had people's grandmothers talking about "Y'all gon' make me lose my mind!". Little did we know, that line he wrote was a glimpse into a future that only DMX saw coming.


Arf arf, indeed.


We just digested his incessant barking as homage to his dead dog Boomer. Btw, he has a tattooed tribute to Boomer sprawling his back, shoulder to shoulder. I have my wife's name on my left bicep, but the shit's only 3 inches across, 4 tops. I'm just saying. That was only the tip of the iceberg, though. He's been busted on drug & gun charges-on a few occasions, was arrested for impersonating an officer (what rap dude pretends to be the police? The one who smokes crack, duh?!), he's also been arrested for excessive speeding, & his last state funded vacation involved the mistreatment of dogs at his home in Arizona. Niggas don't move to Arizona to begin with, unless they're in the Witness Relocation Program, so a Black man murdering puppies in his backyard shouldn't even be on the program listing. & no sooner than he growled "I got top bunk" & got comfortable in his pink striped, jail-issue jump suit, he allegedly attacked a CO [corrections officer]. By this point in his public life, DMX was fucking awesome, like a real life action hero! Somewhere in USA, kids were probably dressing up like him on Halloween, barking & shit while they toilet papered the gay couple's Volvo for giving out real apples as opposed to apple Now & Laters.


To his credit, DMX carved himself a healthy niche in Hollywood by starring in several above average films. Many compared his talent to that of Tupac, although the consensus was that Tupac just acted "crazy". Same consensus concluded that X was "acting" sane. I think he was smoking drugs personally, & reports of him taken into custody with crack cocaine only solidified my assumptions.


Upon his release from one of America's toughest jails, DMX vowed to do better & leave that detrimental lifestyle behind him. He'd found God while incarcerated, like most men would when facing ass violation &/or death by sharpened toothbrush. His future looked bright from all outside vantage points, & I for one believed him. He even appeared on a couple of other artists' summer singles, perhaps to show the Hip Hop world that he's well on his way to save a dreary, slightly homosexual rap industry from skinny jeaned auto-tunery.


Then he announces that in December, he'll be taking part in a boxing match against actor Eric Martinez, in a fight billed "Alabama Pride", on the same card as Butterbean. Yeah, Butterbean. I figured that guy would have mistaken has hand for a pack of hot dogs by now & eaten himself alive years ago.
[tony's note: who the fuck is eric martinez? & what exactly has he acted in? & wouldn't the better contest have been x vs. butterbean?]


Morbid curiosity would have me pining to see this, but staunch reality argues against watching an over aged rapper & a z-list pseudo celeb slap box each other until a referee decides he's earned his paycheck. If this is a publicity stunt, which I know it is, X could have picked a much more formidable opponent to fight. Speaking of Mike Tyson, why not challenge him? In the state of confused disarray that Iron Mike appears to be in, & as long as X's ears aren't anywhere near Mike's mouth, that would be the fight to see. X barks like a dog, Tyson bites like one. If thats not a leveled playing field, then I don't know what is. Both are lunatics; one minute, they're screaming at the top of their respective lungs about the torment they have in store for you, & the next, they're thanking God, apologizing to White people & trying to convince John Q. Public to give them another chance at precious fame.


Mike seems to pretty much be at his lowest point, & with losing his daughter, I'm sure he'll never again lose his grip on reality. That shit has to suck horribly, day in & day out. RIP Exodus. But the X man? No Dice. Dudes just getting started on chapter 3 of "What You Want, Dope Or Dog Food?: The DMX Chronicles". I'm definitely a fan of Earl's music, but I'm an even bigger fan of his antics. He reminds me of the many drug-addicted family members I have who's pathetic lives tug on my heart strings, yet tickle my funny bone like nobody's business.


God bless X, & all those lost sheep who can't find our sheppard, but I'd be lying if I said I'm not entertained by the irony of X having a song called 'Slippin'', whose chorus is, "I'm slippin', fallin', I can't get up". Maybe I should remind him of that song, via e-mail, so when this Martinez clown cleans his proverbial clock, he'll have an excuse ready.


All this assuming that he'll even show up for the fight. I've never seen a crack head wearing a watch.

Nick Cannon: Man on Fire

Now, we all know who Nick Cannon is, I assume. Even the fellas who aren't all that partial to other guys know him, if only because their girlfriends or daughters love that scene from 'Drumline' where he faces off against the other squad. Not that it was the feel-good flick of that year, but drums & thousands of Black people = mild humor, if nothing else. He also had a show on Nickolodeon, called 'Wild N Out', which I never quite understood, but to his credit, I drank a whole lot back then. So, it was either that, or the show really did suck & I'm trying to play nice.

[tony's note: i took a poll [||]. it sucked.]

More recently though, he's achieved a trifecta of B-list stardom unmatched by most of his colleagues. First, he married the heiress to Whitney Houston's R&B drama queendom; Mariah Carey-more on that later. Next he became the host/resident token Black for the show "America's Got Talent", where not only is he NOT one of the judges, but one would assume that he only got the job because he's possibly the most non-threatening negro in Hollywood, right next to Daryl "Chill" Mitchell (the handicapped dude on the show 'Brothers'). Lastly, he engaged in a, umm, heated war of words with pop star terrorizer/rap phenomenon Eminem. Em & Mariah have a strange history, where they may or may not have had sexual relations, & frequently through his music, Marshall Mathers throws Mrs. Cannon under the bus, then jumps down there right along with her. Like kamikaze paparazzi. Ftr, I don't condone stalking, but sometimes it's funny to see successful men flailing their arms at women who wouldn't take the time to squat & piss on them if they were on fire. The last effort to drag her through the mud wasn't very well received by Mr. Carey, & he took to his blog with chants of racism & threats of violence. He even went as far as to invite Em to settle it "like men", whatever that's supposed to mean coming from a guy like Nick. He's not big enough or ashy enough to strike too much fear in anyone this side of the Nickelodeon Network. Of course, Eminem only picks on people he knows won't do shit, ie White girls, but he probably wasn't expecting such a chivalrous move from Cannon. I'm not mad at Nick; I protect my wife as well, really though. Little known fact; Cannon is in very good shape, at least physically. I'm more apt to believe an attention-starved pseudo-celeb can kick the shit out of a 40 year old, ex-drug addict rapper. Especially a white one (no shots). Plus, cougar or not, Mariah is definitely the type of bride whom one would easily find themselves having as much sex with her as she allowed. Maybe even sneaking a little piece if she's too tired. Why not defend her honor?

By these three matters of happenstance, Mr. Carey finds himself in the spotlight again, per se. The fact that he's in the background of Mariah's paparazzi pictures holding her purse & mink stoles only lends more credit to his celebrity. Hey, it works for Common.

But now, Nick may be up against his most formidable adversary yet. Word is, Mariah's got a bun in the oven. Assuming it's Nick's, those boobs won't just be his to motor boat at his leisure. Those hips won't just be for grabbing as he straddles, but for bearing children. This baby stands the chance of knocking Nicky off of the radar for at least 18 years. For the sake of argument, the kid will be cute, talented in some way or another & easier to carry around then Nick, a grown man. How could Mariah not see this as publicity beyond her wildest dreams? The headlines will read "Mariah & Child!", & the pictures will have Nick C., as usual, handling baggage. If I were him, I'd not only be pissed that I didn't sign a prenup, but also that I didn't get a vasectomy. This unwitted, unprotected sex move might have cost him much more than bedazzled diapers & solid gold baby bottles. His greatest publicity feat, marrying arguably the sexiest 50-something year old woman ever, will be all for naught in approximately 8 or so months.

So my advice for Nick; beat the hell out of Eminem. Go looking for him. Immediately. Seriously, wait for the dude backstage at an awards show, alone, & run at him throwing all the punches those little arms can muster up. It doesn't matter if he's not alone; you may get effed the eff up, but that will play on people's sympathies. Another win! You can't lose here. & your child will hear stories of the day you protected it's mom's reputation, subsequently making you a man that your seed can look up to. More so than cooning around on stage in a 3 piece suit & introducing folks who can turn their eyelids inside out or twirl hula hoops while double-dutching. Don't worry about 50 Cent or G-Unit; they have better things to do than run to the aid of their aging boss man. In fact, you may want to throw that race card out there before you attack. Remind 50 Cent that a White man is pulling his strings, & how every album he releases is the equivalent of another row of corn & cotton being shucked for the White man's pocket book.

Hear my cries Nick, the time is now. Don't wait for your wife to give birth to a precious baby girl. Dude, you won't win that popularity contest. Good luck & God speed...

Kanye West: Douchebag Deluxe

If Taylor Swift has never had any Black friends, she sure as hell won't now. Thanks to Kanye, she probably believes every stereotype her grandparents ever tried to instill in her regarding n-words. I could've sworn I saw her flinch, when he broke into his estrogen-induced tirade, like she was preparing to get slapped across the face & have her purse stolen.

[Blogger's note: For those that don't know (what rock do YOU live under?), Taylor Swift, country singer, received the MTV Video Music Award for best female music video. Appalled, Kanye West stormed the staged, snatched the mic from Swift during her acceptance ramble, & declared Beyonce Knowles the unofficial recipient of that award. Later in the show, Beyonce allowed Swift to finish the speech Kanye so rudely interrupted.]

That MTV video award was hers. She rightfully earned the coveted Moon Man, whether Blacks had heard of her or not. & to think, she was most likely semi-prepared with her victory speech, family watching anxiously, & suddenly, Kanye lets the fishsticks out of the man-bag. It seems that all those years of wearing clothing that prevents proper blood circulation has rendered him unable to think straight. Either that, or it's true what "they" say about White woman.

I think he just wanted everybody to see his new haircut before his naps grew back & covered up the road map he had carved into his head. Like dudes who wear fire engine red tennis shoes just so you'll look at them. Kanye's always been a glutton for the spotlight, & let's face it; ever since Drake wheel-chaired his way into our collective hearts, Kanye's been relegated to "that guy who's dating Amber Rose.". That has to do mean things to an ego that big. Perhaps, behind those shades he never removes, he's weeping, gently, like a child who watched her drunken step dad beat a kitten to death with a Barbie doll.

It would seem that, after that traumatic car accident that left him with his jaw wired shut, losing his moms, & that girl leaving him, Kanye would have achieved some higher level of humility. No Dice. He's still stepping over the little people to piss off of a balcony ledge.

Taylor Swift, on the other hand, is being viewed as the damsel in distress, who was rescued by a very bootylicious Beyonce Knowles-Carter, & returned to her perch so she could continue to sing. In that 5 minute interval, she probably gained every older, white female fan that Kanye lost. You know, the ones who liked his music because they thought he was one of "the good ones", & danced to "Golddigger" as they drove their kids to soccer practice. Now, he's one of "those people", & TMZ will be accusing him of smoking crack rocks by Friday.

See, I'm all for artistic expression & personal opinion. But, this was a clear-cut case of the kid who gets picked on finally finding someone "smaller" than him. He may have been accurate with what he said, about Be's video being better (if only for all the ass cheeks bouncing around on screen), but he wouldn't have done that to a more formidable opponent. Say that had've been Mary J. Blige. She would have probably shot him in the stomach. Even Jennifer Hudson would've handed him his ass on a platter, or suplexed him, since her husband is a wrestler & has undoubtedly taught her a couple of moves for a situation just like this. Though he's wise enough to pick battles he can win, exactly what type of war is he waging when the enemy is a 19 year old country singer?

Rappers already have a bad name, & once America feels they can't even trust the sensitive ones, not even the mighty Barack Obama himself will be able to stop the anti-civil rights movement. Face it; Serena's putting hits out on a line judge & Jay-Z has been outed as satan. It's been a hard few days for Americans of African descent. My buddy P! just informed me that he'd received a chain text that said "Kanye hates white people. Go back to Africa". My advice, stay away from any "picnics" for the next couple of months, niggas.

So what did we learn today? Nothing we didn't already know. Celebrities are mindless douche nozzles & America waits on any opportunity to rear it's racist under-belly. & according to Kanye, even gay black men aren't harmless anymore.

Back Then>Right Now

I finally saw G.I. Joe (the movie) today. A bootleg copy that I got in exchange for a pack of Newports, so I can't/won't complain about the quality. It beat the hell out of watching NASCAR & college football all afternoon though, so s'all good.

The movie itself, was actually very entertaining. I removed my childhood memories of setting up rosebush wars & backyard battles & just watched it for what it was; a movie based on an old ass toy Army man. But, as character's names were mentioned & Marlon Wayans cracked a "Kung-Fu grip" joke, I couldn't help but reminisce. See, when I was a kid, G.I. Joe ='d warfare, more so than the other toys we lusted over. He-man & Thundercats seemed like most of the dudes were gay (no offense), Transformers had to go through some sort of sex-change operation to engage in conflict, Voltron sucked if you didn't have all 5 lions, & unless you spoke some variation of Asian-Pacific dialect, you couldn't even read the instructions to your Robotech mech.

G.I. Joe on the other hand, came with some guns, maybe a knife & an awesome bio-card to inform you about the type of killer you were about to unleash into your bedroom. It let my generation re-enact the violent war stories our grandfathers told about WWII, & our uncles crazed tales of Vietnam, without the drugs & hookers, of course (unless you owned Jane or Scarlett). G.I. Joe's didn't fold up into magical balls &/or have to be summoned to a playing field to banish the other dragon warrior to a dark zone (or something to that effect). It was, "Yoooo Joe!", then let the gunfire (or flame thrower) rip. Simple, American fun.

Back then, toys, cartoons, & movies were different. It must be hard on kids nowadays, or easy, depending, with the level of play they have. Not for nothing, but nothing ushers a boy into manhood like a little bald-headed Black guy with a machine gun the size of a Hot Wheel. The first time I saw a Pokemon card I felt the same way as the first time I saw a 16 year old boy wearing skinny jeans; confused & slightly disappointed. With video games being the #1 time waster/babysitter, today's youngster knows nothing of mud rock fights & building their own diabolical bike ramps in the driveway. Who say's a broken arm doesn't build a little character?

During my last trip to a toy store (around the time G.I. Joe was being released), I happened to notice that Hasbro had begun selling the toy again, almost identical to how it was when I was a kid. Once a kid got past all the shiny, asexual, robotic fantasy warriors, there the Joe's were, on the back shelf like haggard old war vets. I didn't see one kid buying any though, movie or not. Maybe if they re-released the cartoon also, it would make a difference.

By the end of the movie, I was telling my son stories of my G.I. Joe days, only to have him look over the top of his Nintendo DS, nod his head & go back to playing Yu-Gi-Oh. The saga continues...

Oh yeah, check out that movie, it's pretty good. I just wish they put a real life Black actor in the movie to play as "Rip Cord", instead of a caricature of the proverbial Black comedian. Really though, I was waiting for Marlon Wayans to clap his hands & say "Dy-no-miiite".

the EVIL among$t u$

For the post couple of days, I've noticed the prevalence of evil that sits just overhead, ominously, like a marine cloud layer.

It all began with a post on Combat Jack's www.daily-math.com, with a post entitled "Is Jay-Z A Witch?" (more on that later). Then, last night, I watched the season premier of one of my favorite shows, Supernatural. It's about God, Lucifer & the war between Heaven & Hell, & two White dudes who were to be the cause & solution to the End of Days. Deep & pointless, simultaneously, but, I digress {note to self; find something to replace the saying, "but, I digress}.

On www.daily-math.com, the drop had a link to an article citing how Jay-Z is bigger than Hip Hop in nefarious ways, had ties to the Illuminati, "The Oath", & how a healthy portion of entertainers are part of a grand scheme to flood society with Evil. Not Hollywood, fun-n-games, "oh, look! A zombie" evil. Pure, destroy mankind from the inside out, inescapable evil. The linked-to article itself was a tad bit far-fetched, but insightful nonetheless. It pointed out several reasons way Jay-Z is an agent of the Illuminati, including the Roc hand-diamond sign that he looks through with one eye being a physical manifestation of the all-seeing eye that graces our currency.

From the comments section, where the wealth of insight for the drop was found, there were a few individuals stating similar opinions, one of which volunteered a youtube video entitled "the industry part 34". The video, hosted by Public Enemy's Professor Griff, shed light on how uber-famous rappers are able to rise to unbelievable heights, if they're willing to commit themselves to preposterous levels of evil. The Oath, if you will. If said oath is broken, the results can & will be life-altering.

[Blogger's note: I don't necessarily believe all this, so don't go quoting your boy.]

Believing in conspiracies is a very thin line straddled, to begin with. But, any God-fearing person would be ignorant to label certain occurrences as coincidence, as opposed to correlation. For example, rappers B.I.G, Tupac Shakur, & Pimp C all started their musical careers based in malice intent & negativity. All three made a public acknowledgment of this, & just as publicly, attempted to mend any wounds inflicted by purposely choosing to become more responsible artists. Almost immediately, all three died terrible, unexpected deaths, respectively. By no means am I relaying a message of "the man" being out to get them, but that's quite a coincidence. That list of uncanniness extends far longer than I'm willing to type/point out on a single blog post. I was always taught that there's no such thing as coincidences, but that's for another day.

I've read books like "Behold A Pale Horse", by William Cooper, that outline the many invisible plots & plans to uproot any possible positivity in mankind. The majority of information I dismissed (like the aliens of Area 54), but other facts that are more documented & talked about, like The Bildenberg Group, the Illuminati, Trilateral Commission, etc, aren't as easily ignored. There's undoubtedly a force that can't be pinpointed, but recognized all the same.

We're all aware that the unseen hand is never idle, & the Devil is in constant motion. Take from that what you will, be at the very least think about it. & I strongly suggest you go to "The Industry part 34" on youtube, check it out, & investigate further if you choose.

Hopefully, I gave you something to think about for the weekend.

I can make you famous.

We all wanted to be famous at some point or another. I know I sure as hell did.

I planned on being the first rapping actor. Decades ago. After I reached the heights of celebrity status, I was going to teach a class on how to be the best icon one could be. No Dice. The closest I've ever gotten to super stardom was being the father of the most smart-mouthed girl in the second grade. But, I did get to sign autographs though. All over parent-teacher conference notices.

Obviously, I took a spot on the sidelines & have been an avid spectator ever since. As we all know, from here, you can see the whole game. The best coaches do so from their recliners, with their drug(s) of choice at hand. I was watching an episode of "I Love Lucy" (best show ever, btw) this morning, & I noticed that the best ones were where Lucy was trying to help Rick's career by creating some lame ass publicity stunt. Good intentions, bad results, like getting married because of pregnancy.

Now I'm thinking about the whole "beef" in hip hop controversy deal. More often than not, the public declares "pub stunt!" when a couple of artists start throwing darts at one another. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. But, I've been alive long enough to know that scientifically, some folks just don't mesh well, like wives & babymommas. But, assuming the "beef" scenarios are stunts, why not kick it up a notch, a la Lucy McGuillocutty Ricardo.

I say Balls to the Wall [||].

They want autographs, give them autographs. Walk through the mall, nude as a newborn with nothing but a bright red Sharpie. The fine you'll receive for Indecent Exposure would fail in comparison to the amount of fans that draws. You might even get some sweet action in a public restroom. This particular stunt is geared more towards the men, because we wouldn't want any ladies being gang-raped at the food court. While it would make for the most akward porno ever, it just wouldn't be a good look for whatever city she represents. Body grooming for such an excursion is optional, but if they don't recognize you for whatever talent you've been showing, there's always the off-chance that some tourists might mistake you for Bigfoot. Or the worlds most hairless man. Either or, someone will be talking about you by dinnertime.

Public intox is always a crowd pleaser also. Not drunk driving, I don't condone that, but taking the family out to Disneyland, completely hammered would be the "TMZ" moment those pesky paps search for. The guy in the Mickey Mouse costume may be used to kids kicking him about the thigh & shins, but imagine a 20-something year old man dry-humping his hind quarters. Good times. But not just there; everywhere. 7-eleven. Walmart. Chuck E. Cheese's. Church. Kind of like a One Man Show, except incoherent & throw-upy.

Hell, I'll even take a page from Jim Jones' *dusts off paper* book of fame. Have one of your baggage handlers keep a camera phone ready at all times. Be your own paparazzi. There's always one guy willing to do anything to be down with the "movement". So, slap him around, record it, send it to YouTube, Myspace, WSHH, vimeo & before you know it, you'll be the douche you aim to be known as. With the right coersion, you may even have a buddy willing to let you shoot him in the ass, granted the gun isn't more than a .22. It worked for the guy in the movie "Notorious".

Controversy sells, this we know. But all I'm saying is be the master of your destiny. If you can properly commandeer these talents, your actual talents can be meh at best & you'll still blow the eff up. Anyone who dares to challenge my theory, I ask you; what the hell did Paris Hilton do to become so popular? How does one have their own perfume without any sort of skill whatsoever? I know plenty of girls who sleep around & the last thing I would want is for my significant other to smell like those broads.

Take note, all you fame chasers. It's 5% skill, 25% luck & 70% what you do with it.

& be advised, only the most talented of performers 15 minutes extend beyond the time limit. Inevitable scrutiny & short attention spans demand that the "It" person of the moment be replaced more rapidly than a prostitute's pantyliner. You MUST give the public what they want. Stupidity, idiocy, Tom Foolery, & in some more advanced cases, nigtastic shuck & jive coupled with coontrocities beyond belief. Like thanking slave masters for one's success. Or opening schools in a African wastelands while there's a 40% drop out rate here in the USA. Trust me, the boundaries are limitless.

So, stop sitting around hoping that the world is waiting anxiously for your skill set to be unsheathed. That probably won't happen. But, with a little know-how, TMZ will be broadcasting your personal life, thus making yours a household name. & for the record, same-sex kissing & amateur porn are yesterday's news. Time to step your game up. America loves a psychopath.

Your audience awaits.......

The Rick Ross Effect

Yes, I'm still on my hip hop kick.

I'll admit, I bought Rick Ross' album strictly off of the strength of his "beef" with Curtis Jackson (50 Cent). The closest I'd gotten to him before that was "Hustlin'", & that song was on a mix CD that my brother owned. So, never was it part of my plan to purchase/download any of his material purposely.

Then, he starts up with 50 over some feminine nonsense & I became intrigued. So, a year & some months later, I went out on the day it was released & bought "Deeper Than Rap", his third album. I like it.

I've found out quite a bit of information on Ross (legal name William Leonard Roberts), thanks to 50's relentless attempts at ruining his life. The majority of it is so unimportant that it's no wonder that regardless of all the commotion caused, Ross' CD still debuted at #1 on somebody's charts. What I did learn to be of interest, though, was the fact that his present day incarnation (not incarceration) isn't his first. He had been rapping before he blew up as the biggest coke dealing rapper in Florida.

In the late 90's, he rhymed under the moniker Tephlon Da Don. Upon further, um, research, I learned he had worked with quite of few artists that were, at the time, were pretty relevant to the industry, such as producer Erick Sermon of EPMD. Apparently that direction had been met with mediocre reviews, because his music was, well, mediocre. He has a song on some soundtrack to some movie also under that Tephlon name. Google it, because I'm being lazy right now.

So, when he did decide to make his "comeback" to the game, he was a changed man. Literally & physically. Gone were the throwback jerseys with matching, yet atrocious, headgear. Now, the man who once resembled B.I.G.'s less fortunate second cousin, was draped in linens & silks & massive amounts of jewelry. His body now covered in tattoos. He even has pictures of George Washington & Benjamin Franklin on his breasts, respectively. Did you know that Ben Franklin is the only non-president to appear on money?

& along with the change in his appearance & image, his content received a face lift as well. Coke rap is the appropriate term to label his music. 99% of his rhymes consist of tales that revolve around a lifestyle rich in cocaine dealings, only rivaled by the movie "Scarface". He does pull off the imagery of such a living, although at times it's obvious he's not telling the truth, & we all know that rappers don't lie.

If I were ever to meet this Rick Ross, I'd ask him "Why?". Did he think that he'd have a better shot at making doe if he acted as if he's selling pies (no fat joke/food references; those are legitimate slang words)? The skeleton of his word play is definitely void of any real thrilling skill, so one can only imagine how good he'd be at rap if it weren't for his fantastic voyages down Cocaine Alley. It doesn't bother me personally, because I've never even used the phrase "keep it real" until like two days ago.

He's not the only MC to surface & be met with less than admirable response. Jay-Z, Tupac, even Ice Cube all started their musical careers then swiftly pulled a 180 degree turn. What began as "for the love of the art" quickly transformed into "for the love of money". Now, I'm not complaining, I'm just saying.

It's only right that one seek financial retribution for their skill, but at what cost? Leaving behind what's concrete in your heart? Is it possible to have a healthy mix of the two & still become & remain successful. Apparently it is. There's dozens, if not hundreds, of rappers who have a stable fan base & have avoided crime or manual labor employment for the fact that people pay them for their craft. Now, those same dudes may not be pushing $250,000 cars or flying to countries with names I can't pronounce, but they would still be able to eat & provide for their families.

Smells like some people are a little greedy, no?

When it's all said & done, I couldn't care less. Give me good music, & you can have your fancy automobiles, cigars, drugs or whatever else your heart(s) desires.

Losers>>Winners

I can't recall too many times in my days as a young lad, anyone ever telling me, "Hey, don't worry if you don't win. People will love you regardless." It was more like, "All or nothing!" or "Second place means you're the best loser!" I guess that may be one of those blurred lines between humans & the other animals. I've never seen the second or third hyena in a pack on National Geographic not partake in a downed elephant because he didn't get the first neck-breaking bite. They ALL took his big ass to the dirt & dined on his carcass. Laughing & shit.

But humans, we need trophies & medals & congratulatory phrases to make us feel exalted & victorious. A winner must be declared, & whoever isn't that individual gets shunned & chased away like so many flea-infested possums. Or do they?

It's part of the human experience to feel compassion. With that said, I think Rihanna should tell Chris Brown "thank you". For what, you might ask. For kicking her ass. For being just dumb enough to physically injury her publicly, but smart enough to not permanently damage or kill her. That ridiculous attack propelled her career into the stratosphere. Not that she wasn't already a star in her own right, but how long do those things really last nowadays anyway? Pop culture is so fickle that some trivial statement or inappropriate picture could have surfaced on TMZ & rendered all her ass(et) shaking null & void. It happens everyday on the mean streets of Superstardom, U.S.A.

Thanks to C. Brown's bite marks & bitch slaps, Rihanna has risen like the proverbial phoenix for the movement of women's rights. She could possibly be one of the most noticeable entertainers for many years to come & never record another song ever again.

You never know what's going to happen in life. Take the runner-ups from America's Top Model & American Idol. Without second (or third, fourth, etc.) place, we wouldn't have Tocarra or Clay Aiken, respectively. Whatever point Chris was attempting to convey when he gave himself the green light to get all handsy with Rihanna obviously blew up in his face. He won the fight, but lost the war by light years. Not because he is facing jail time. Not because his career may be in limbo indefinitely. But because he did for her, for free, what Hollywood's best manager's couldn't accomplish in an entire lifetime of promotion & payola handouts.

Make her an undeniable icon.

It may not seem like it now, but Brown will be okay. America is notorious for it's short-term memory, especially when nepotism is involved. He may serve a little term, but as long as Niggas do Nigga things, examples must be set. But, had Rihanna been a white girl, the story wouldn't have been dragged out this far. In fact, Chris would've been dragged out far into the woods somewhere & hung by his neck.

Now, all that's left for her to do is hold her head high, continue to smile pretty for the camera & marry that white guy she was supposed to be with in the first place.

The Girl in the Shower Scene

I think everyone knows at least one "famous" person. From school, or church, or drunken, anonymous house party sex, we all know some poor sap who had their wish to be renowned granted. How they feel about it now we can only guess, because once the dream-chasing paid off, they forgot our asses quicker than a spouse's favorite food.

I know/knew a few; here's one. True story.

We've all seen Baby Boy, right? One of John Singleton's best movies, might I add. Remember Jody's baby momma Peanut? Her real name is Tamara Laseon Bass. Well, at least it was when we were friends. She might have gotten all Prince Roger Nelson on me & changed her name to Stardust Bunny or Rayne'Bo by now. You never can tell with those celebrity types. Anyhow, if you've never seen the movie, see it. She's the girl in the shower scene. You can't miss it, trust.

We met at LMU in the mid-90's, at a party. I was with a buddy, & him & I were the ONLY two guys at a dorm party with about 10 girls. My homeboy got drunk & throw up all over some random broad's bed. Like the gentleman I am/was, I cleaned up his barf & one of the chicks volunteered her room for him to sleep it off. So, after I walked him across the hall, back I was in a room full of halfway decent young ladies.

Now, back then, my Bullshit ability was unparalleled. Undetectable by the naked ear. & I'm not an unattractive guy, so by the end of the night, all the girls had given me their connects because they said I was the coolest, most down-to-Earth guy they'd met in Los Angeles. I eventually called a couple of them just because, but the coolest girl's name was Tamara. She moved out here from New York, & her accent was so intriguing that I could/would talk to her for hours about nothing at all. We even wrote each other when she went home to visit her Mom. She was the first person I ever saw wearing Old Navy. A blue zippered sweatshirt with the company name plastered across the front.

We were close friends from jump; she'd invite me to the school, I'd go (of course), hang with her all day, swim, eat, smoke the occasional blunt. But, our whole friendship was strictly platonic. I never looked at her like that, & truth be told I tried just based off of how cool she was to me. No Dice. She even spent the night at my house when I moved from my parents' & slept on the couch. I slept on the floor. One day, she started hinting that she wanted more than a friendship, acting jealous of other girls being around me & whatnot. & she would always find a way to lock her arm into mine, like I was her escort around campus. But, she wasn't on my radar. We stayed friends though. She became more serious about her studies, while I became more adament about whoring myself out to every girl I smelled & time passed on.

The last time I saw her, she had invited me to a play she was in at LMU. I, being the egotistical maniac one becomes after buying a car & getting their own spot, showed up with a date. Tamara didn't see her, crept out of the shadows & kissed me on the cheek, real soft. Then she glanced around my shoulder & saw a girl, a fellow Lion at that, peering back at her. I said, "You did good!". She smiled partially, mumbled "thanks" & walked out of my life.

Sometimes I still miss her. That's the kind of person she was, to me at least.

Oh wait. That's not the last time I saw her. The last time was actually when I saw a sneak preview of 'Baby Boy' at the Magic Johnson Theater on Crenshaw Boulevard.

Again, she's the girl in the shower scene.

Stars 'N' Bars

When did "jail" become the popular go-to spot for celebrities?

About 20 years ago, celebs of all ilks were going in & out of rehabilitation centers more than package delivery guys. Usually with tighter shorts. Although cosmetically, it was a blemish on their careers, the bruise quickly healed & they were headed back to the land of the living. Until, that is, the next big job that called for "electric relaxation". We became accustomed to incoherent interviews & sunglasses at night. That hasn't changed much since, but according to any accessible media outlet, the vacation spot for the stars has been downgraded. Now, they go to jail.

The latest victim to incarceration is Charles Barkley. Apparently he likes his booze & his fellatio on the open highway. Rumors swirl about his addiction to strip clubs, but I doubt he's happy about the next phase of wet, naked backsides he'll be looking at. & God forbid he has the overwhelming urge for a lap dance. For a carton of Newports & some soups, Chuck can pick up right where he left off. He's only been sentenced to 10 days, 5 if he opts to enroll in alcohol rehab classes. In all fairness to the system, what is 5 days & "mandatory" education going to do to a man of his stature. It's no more than a slap on the Rolex & a fine. Why waste my tax dollars for him to go to what probably equates to some of the worst hotels he's ever been to. & judging by his love of the ladies, I'm positive he's been to a hole in the wall in some hick town where the hotel manager, sheriff, judge & candlestick maker were all the same guy. Unlike "real" people, he'll get out, smile pretty for the camera, go back to his nice job & continue throwing dollars at half-naked flesh piles & half-priced shots of Patron. He's a jerk, & so is the judge who sentenced him.

On a more serious note, rapper TI is scheduled to begin serving his 1 year sentence next month for attempting to buy assault rifles & silencers (both of which are illegal) to retaliate for the murder of a friend. Really? At what point does a multi-million record selling entertainer think he's so untouchable that he can tool around the 'hood & buy hot guns? How much neon green weed do you smoke to think that life is your personal video game? What friend's does he have around him that thought it would be a good idea for him to do that? Probably the same morons that drove him to meet the undercover agent. Maybe he felt he had a point to prove; A) money hasn't made him any smarter, B) he's still "keeping it real" or C) money hasn't made him any smarter. What surprised me, & others, is the amount of time he got for such a serious crime, with priors on his jacket. It's been said that he cooperated with police on several levels. If I were facing YEARS around men who probably thought I was cute, I would most likely get my "Polly wanna cracker" on as well. I don't blame him for making his situation more bearable, but I do call "jerk" on this one. For a mere $10,000 (surely he has a cigarette lighter, anklet or pinky ring worth as much), he could have had all sorts of "Goodfella" type things done to whomever he chose. Instead, he auditioned to be the biggest star on the next installment of "America's Dumbest Criminals". & he was picked, unanimously.

There's too many "it" girls to name, but they must perceive arrest as a rite of passage into stardom. As if internet videos of gratuitous sex & bad music/movies weren't enough. The moment my public relation's manager suggests I do something to get arrested, I would surely slap the cigar from his face & bid him an unfond "farewell". I guess when you're high on cocaine, everything seems like a good idea. Call me lame, but cavity checks, public showering and risk of being shanked isn't worth a few thousand more fans. Again, I guess when you're high on cocaine, everything seems like a good idea (word to DMX, Rick James & several of my close relatives).
*sidenote: General population isn't for everyone people. Wake up & smell the urine*

I'm far from rich & nowhere near famous, & even I know not to buy pistols in dark alleys, or drive with double vision. Maybe instead of spending countless amounts of cash on mink boxer shorts and solid gold toothbrushes, these imbeciles should hire nuns to follow them around with ping-pong paddles, & pop their knuckles every time they do something idiotic. Half of Hollywood would be walking around with the hands of Muhammad Ali.

Hey, why not, it worked at my catholic high school.

Oscar...he's not just a grouch anymore

I don't like to think of myself as a "hater". For starters, it's quickly becoming one of those phrases like "bling bling", "fo' sheezy", & "it's all good". Some words just lose all substance the first time an uptight 44 year old daytime talkshow host uses it to patronize their "urban" guest.

Ludacris: Thank you for having me on your show, Ms. Winfrey. I really appreciate & value the opportunity to utilize this multi-faceted platform & express my views on the degenerative state of affairs that plague America at present.

*audience applauds*

Oprah Winfrey: Oh, okay.....Fo' sheezy, neezy! It's ALL good!....

Something more than street cred (& my lunch) was lost in that transaction. Point is, I may be a douche (bag OR nozzle), jerk, elohssa, tool, nickname for guys named Richard, even the ever-elusive jacknut, but by no stretch of the human imagination am I a "hater". I hate people who call me that. I even hate the song "Hi Hater", so that should be more than enough proof.

I do, however, subscribe to the theory that some people deserve for things to happen to them.

Take for instance the rich kid who crashes into a telephone pole while showing off for some girls on the bus stop. Everyone laughed, because he deserved it. Or the girl who thinks she's the best thing since ribbed condoms who gets into an argument at the mall only to be de-weaved at the food court. Hilarious to all who saw. We were glad that it happened to her. I don't think anyone deserves to get murdered, raped, etc., but I live for the small idiosyncrasies that make my heart warm in a "The Joker" sort of way.

Now, wouldn't it have been great if something like that occurred at the Oscars? I could've done without the sappy speeches & loose-cannon thank you's. Not to mention, who the kcuf wants to see Wolverine performing showtunes about God knows what? For what it's worth, he should've released his claws & gutted himself, live on TV. That friends, would've been entertainment. As for Beyonce, let's just say that I will always remember the video for that song "Bootylicious". I refuse to move forward.

I wanted somebody to fall down those little stairs, backwards, or lose their balance on the way to the microphone & introduce forehead to sturdy craftsmanship. I think next year, the pre-show drinks should be made with stronger, cheaper liquor. Competitive drunks are more fun to watch than a horny chihuaha having it's way with a throw pillow.

All this talk of Hollywood being saturated by "drugs & alcohol", then where was it last night? Who doesn't enjoy a stammerring buffoon with an award in one hand, & a point to prove in the other? Unnecessary expletives are becoming like dinosaurs. For every two people to thank in life, there's an SUV full of them who you want to kiss your ssa. What better place to flip them the proverbial bird than the Academy Awards? All the ex's who doubted, the manager's who laughed, the dad's who deadbeated, all could be addressed in a huge general introduction into the Hall of Shame. First & last names mandatory.

I also vote for more categories that would allow for a Joachim Phoenix or a Macy Gray to stumble across the stage & mumble incoherently for two minutes. All those narcissistic sociopaths gathered under one roof, & not ONE uncomfortable moment? What a waste of time. This may be aging masculinity talking, & I know it's a recession & all, but there wasn't nearly enough boobage happening. I don't need a recreation of Janet Jackson's prime time mammogram, but since when did 30 year old women start dressing like Susan B. Anthony? Perhaps if they turn the air conditioning up a notch or two, nipple erection would have caused enough of an illusion to quench my thirst (no pun intended).

I wonder how many intoxicated has-beens were on their couches, shaking their wine drenched fists at the TV, cursing their horrible careers. They should've banded together & stormed the auditorium, kicking over chairs, snatching off toupe's & wig's by the dozen, naked. Had Mickey Rourke not been in that "Wrestler" movie, I bet he would have orchestrated the whole uprise.

I don't usually indulge in awards shows, simply because I feel like all their achievement & accolade celebrating is another way of telling me how much my life sucks, but I watched out of sheer curiosity. I was positive that one of those douchebags would've got what they deserved. & I'm not talking about an Oscar. Imagine my disappointment.

I Hate Kanye West (But, in a good way)

Have you ever seen a guy, & for some uncanny reason suddenly got the overwhelming urge to bump into him, or set him on fire?

You know the type; loud mouth, horrible shirt, "exotic" body fragrance, really shiny shoes, & some vintage hair style that looks like whoever stopped wearing it did so for a reason? Yes? Well that's how I feel about Kanye West. I know celebs are required by law to have a certain blowhard quality about them, but this guy supercedes the norm, straight into the douche-nozzle stratosphere.

&, while I'm all for fashion renaissance, his taste in haberdashery is suspect at best. What stylist gives a thumbs-up to a sports coat/sweatshirt hybrid in desperate need of a size upgrade? The legally blind one. Match that type of atrocity with audaciously tight jeans, so impeccably fitted that you can count the tube sock stripes, & your outfit has officially insulted my intelligence. Every time I see a picture of Kanyeezy, I feel like he's flipping me the bird after he spit in my soda. I never judge books by their covers, but I judge weirdos by their uniforms at break-neck speed.

This is in no way an attack on Mr. West, but more at the implications of his pop star status. For all intents & purposes, the dude is an icon. Kids know who he is, which is basically the solidification of celebrity status. But not even fame & riches will make me ignore when a person is a real-life cartoon character. A caricture, if you understand the difference between the two.

America has an infatuation with "the elossA". West just happens to be the latest posterboy for extreme jerkness, a walking billboard for toolism far & wide. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind though, I admire the fortitude it takes to openly say the president doesn't care about black people, and to proclaim one's self as (& I quote), Martin Louis the King. Not to mention slapping the snot from unassuming photogs, which equates to being mauled damn near to death by the cutest bear cub you've ever seen. As harmless as this guy appears at first glance, I believe him to be the devil in denim leotards & sleeveless church sweaters.

This kid's about 3 minutes from referring to himself in the third person. "Whatever Kanye wants, Kanye gets! Fa Sho!"

Maybe I'm jealous of his star power, because only the most elite Hip Hopper would annouce that his house is too clean to listen to Hip Hop in. Gadzooks!, to say the least. This guy should just walk in circles and eat his own feces. I remember a time not to long ago when I pined for his music. Now, I throw up in my mouth a little bit everytime I hear him [ahem] sing.

I'll admit, he is an example of what a Black man can accomplish when he sets his mind to it. Not revolutionary by any standards, but definately a quality to be admired, once you get past the eye doctor sun shades & spasmatic dancing. He's taken music in a direction probably not witnessed since disco morphed into hip hop. He played a large part in changing the dress code for young people across the world, however flamboyant it may be now. "Goodbye baggy jeans, hello yeast infection", or something to that effect.

Temper tantrums & personality deficiency aside, its good that young people can look up to a person who's honest with himself. The songs he writes are usually what a lot of us feel, but don't know how to vocalize. Thousands of rappers today possess the ability to get yor head nodding, but only a select few can make you dance, think & question your taste in clothing all in one shot.

I'd rather not look in my mirror & see that clown staring back at me, but if it works for him, more power.

Maybe in some intergalactic way, his oddly shaped behavioral patterns will have a positive effect on future generations. God knows he could do way worse than Tupac, Lil Wayne & 50 cent did.