I’m not a religious person by any means, but i hear its not polite to talk about politics or religion at the dinner table so i wont discuss my abject hedonism in a public forum. Perhaps they saw my dionysian ways and thought I needed as much help as i could get or maybe they thought in all of my opulent glory I would revel in holding the head of a martyr, but the peoples at Good Wood thought it best to give me a Jesus Piece.
Not just a any Jesus Piece, an all a black, wooden, stunt worthy joint with my name on the back WHAT! Plus when i got it it smelled like bacon, but what I thought to be added value ended up being just odd coincidence.
Story is that they chose 10 people to give this Lumber Lord to and my name must have popped up during their intense selection process of throwing darts at the phone book. I really don’t even know who else has one aside from my man Joe La Puma, Chris aka CtotheJL and my man Marcus Troy (who has two cause that boy need Jesus!). I would say that I appreciate being in such good company, but i think that other Blackout Bible man holders might be Buster Douglas and the dancing old man from the six flags commercials so i reserve my accolades.
I’ve learned from young not to blame other people for your problems. I mastered passing the buck early. The dog that I never had had a persistent and insatiable craving for homework. It was Phil Knight’s fault that I was broke and whoever invented Popeye’s chicken I want to shake his hand with my right hand and punch him in the gonads with my left, but i digress. Im over the blame game, however there is one situation currently on the table that seems worthy of me taking abject finger pointing out of retirement.
Jay Electronica is the reason i hate rap
Sounds pretty unreasonable doesn’t it? Well let me break it down with empirical evidence
Jay Electronica’s additions to big book of rap are the silver bullet next to the cannon fodder of rap. The platinum plate of filet mignon next to the plastic tray of Lunchables. The race to the itunes once word that another melding of his commanding voice and a Just Blaze track has strutted its way onto the net is akin to the goosebumps I felt tuning into the Stretch Armstrong and Bobbito show at 3am in the morn and hearing Crooklyn Dodgers 2 for the first time. The visceral thrill of hearing something so beautifully poetic yet utterly violent, something that makes you wonder whether a smile is audible while still making you nod like a narcoleptic heroin addict.
So why praytell does he make me hate rap?
Cause other rap ain’t this good, and it makes no attempts to be.
Shouts to Jay Electronica for being a good and humble dude and to FWMJ for the introduction amongst other things.
I’ve never been to jail, its not my thing. Although I used to get shaken down by the cops on a regular basis when I was younger and in a different set of circumstances, my skirmishes with the law have been uneventful at best. Although everyone that i grew up with is befitting the cliche statitstic of “dead or in jail” i managed to escape the long arm of the law with the aid of my lack of social skills and the threat of the combination of my moms belt and a public place.
From any general description of jail i doesn’t seem that bad, i always said that if i were homeless that i would just throw a brick through someones window and hit “Club Fed” for some rest and relaxation. Three hots and a cot, some yard time, learn how to fashion a shiv out of a tootbrush, earn a trade, play some ball.
then i saw this
The reason that people want to stay out of the bing. The reason why you can’t be tough in the cuffs. It’s like watching Steven King’s “It” in 3D while sitting in the front row at a clown college.
That dude is real! He exists!
and this dude?
This dude is scary, scarier than walking on on your grandmothers gynological exam
Scarier than having an inner ear infection in an Iraqi minefield
Scarier than having to wave the starter flag at motorcycle rally for riders with downs syndrome.
The truth is always scarier than fiction.
I will never do anything illegal ever again. At least not until I can afford a good lawyer, then im above the law.
I got my hands on a certain hip hop stars album a tad early some time ago, one I will not name out of my tendency to not want to incriminate myself, one of my hobbies is keeping my head off of the chopping block. Anyways to my expectations and dismay, the album was sub par at best at least not up to the the standards he’s set up with his claims (isn’t that the case for anyone? if you’re self proclaimed the best you can do nothing but disappoint). Give for a song or five I could not see any of the album in its entirety getting much burn on the iPod and would only be left on the hard drive to fulfill some OCD need to have every album in existence cataloged and memorized like some savant music librarian.
As the album started to make is way into the hands of the masses opinions began to supplant actual review. The amateur music critics began to chime in with their inarticulate album reviews and the corner bodega and train station platform became more informative than opening an issue of Rolling Stone when it came to getting idea of album content. Being who I am I could not wait to pass a sweeping, premature, uninformed judgement on an album after hearing it on tinny, bass deficient laptop speakers, the result sounding like the electro-warble of anima-tronic christmas decorations chiming “silent night” from the inside of a gas station bathroom.
I reviewed the subject matter and handed in my synopsis. “This is lame” short, succinct, to the point, yet not without it’s charm being that I was able to summarize a work only using three one syllable words. This story would skew more interesting had there been a maelstrom of ill response. But there wasn’t. Some agreed. Some did not, but what struck me was that the most common response from those that didn’t agree was that I didn’t like it because I’m a hater.
I would be hard pressed to find a more annoying term in the American lexicon. A sweeping term popularized in the early part of the decade use to explain away any form of criticism. Admittedly some criticisms are unwarranted, the byproduct of peoples low self esteem coupled with the natural want of humans to see others fall on their face which explains the popularity of TMZ or the the amount of hits on YouTube vids of people getting kicked In the nuts. We love the fail. However as someone who crafts quips with extreme precision, I take offense to the generality. You’re grouping me in the same bitter cage as someone like a Perez Hilton, or some 13 year old with a slight grasp of the english language and access to the internet.
Real criticism is constructive, poignant, and backed by facts and evidence. If you tell me im wack, you gotta be able to tell me why im wack and how to improve on my wackness to make me unwack. Thats criticism.
You call me a hater for voicing my opinion you’ve just ended all opportunities for discourse. Everyone’s opinion is valid. You don’t have to agree. Just listen
People who call others Haters more than likely spell the word “The” as “Da”, use numbers in place of letters and add Z’s to all of their words producing statements like “Dis is 4 Da Haterz”
