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An Afro-American Take on Rap Music (Serious post)


TheSandyTongue left a comment on my post on Lil Wayne that inspired this post. Shout out to him

Guns and Bats..yeah this is real hip-hop

I have a  diversified palate when it comes to music. I listen to everything: country music, rap, Hip-Hop, R&B, classical, Opera, International stuff as well. Rap music has a special place in my heart. We have a special relationship. My parents forbid me to listen to it, because to them they didn’t understand it and its promote what they felt was a violent counter culture. Though I still managed to sneak some music here and there a mass majority of the music at the time didn’t appeal to me. As someone who has never taken drugs, doesn’t have any kids out of wedlock or from different women, has never been in jail, etc it is hard for me to relate to the songs on a deeper level thank just liking a beat. I thought in this post I would share with you all some of my observations  of rap and hip-hop and the culture from which it sprang from.

The Black Community

These words are fictitious, it is my opinion no matter what the Reverend Jesse Jackson says or the Reverend Al Sharpton or even Reverend Run  that there is no such thing as a black community. Why well because well once someone makes it, the first thing they do is move far away. They don’t reinvest in the community first. They get out. What is called  The Black Community is basically a haphazard motley assortment o people stuck in the same socio economic bracket and part of the neighborhood. The Black Community isn’t a homogeneous community. There are people who’s family like Mine came from the Caribbean, some which came recently from Africa, some who have been here since the inception of this country. We all speak different languages, and have different cultural identities and values. We comprise 14% of the US population and so it is quite often that means that statistically we can’t expect our needs to be well represented.  Given how historically the US has treated blacks there is a lot of untrust and apathy, in this simulacrum of a community.

A few decades ago our struggle was vocalized in the Blues which was at first mocked and derided, and I would like in my mind to compare rap music to have been initially a vocalization of the inner city experience. It too was derided and ridicule, it too became over time made a serious impact in music world-wide. Rap/ hip-hop was a very interesting thing. In the 80’s it was used as a tool to promote cultural awareness and it was a means for us in the so called community to reach other to each other despite our collective differences. Malcolm X speeches were put on tapes and remixed to beats, one could by books from vendors on the streets about Africa.

This may not seem like much but it’s meaningful? let me give you an example. Dr. Henry Louis Gates did a special for PBS called Black in America and he made the distinction i believe that only in America doe black people refer to themselves as Black Americans, in other countries they refer to themselves as their Nationality first “I am Cuban who’s black, I am a Brazilian who’s Black. America for the mass majority of us doesn’t feel like a home.

Bob Marley and Capitalism

If you listen to the song Redemption song by Bob Marley there are some cool lines:

Clip 1
Old pirates, yes, they rob I
Sold I to the merchant ships
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit
But my hand was made strong

Clip 2

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery
None but ourselves can free our minds

There is this pervasive idea that  through hard work we can get out of whatever bad situation we are in: Some of us choose to work hard at sports, some choose to word hard at academia, we find our niche and we  put in the work. This sets off an interesting situation,there is a constant siphoning off of  the talented and successful people out of the neighborhood where we came up in. Our greatest resources is the human resource and that is depleting and depleting

To me in many ways rap had at some point a powerful message, it was sometimes social commentary, sometimes a cry for help, sometimes a vocalization of pain. Now it is is entertainment. Nowadays rappers make their money through playing on social stereotypes , shock value , and sensationalism. Whatever power rap had to be a catalyst for social discourse is gone on a whole though there are still some  rappers who talk about pertinent things.

Final Thoughts on Rap for this post at least

When rap first came out and began to be popular, I heard so many negative things about it, but that only made me love it more. It was something I could relate too. It felt like something organic made for me by people who went through similar things which is more than can be said for most things. But like all things it became a commodity something to be bought and sold, it became a means for people who had very little  to get tons of money without a proper education or deep understand of  societal problems and as a result many successful rappers nowadays are only gimmicks that will have fade into oblivion not having done much than to make themselves a spectacle or some kind of freak to be used to sell things  and subversive ideaologies

Boxer and politician Manny Pacquiao

I called It, Manny Pacquiao is a Bitch: Pacquiao denounces anti-gay allegations


Due to pieces like the one I wrote before Hot off the Presses: Manny Pacquiao unloads over Barack Obama Gay Porn Style Manny Pacquiao was forced to reveal in public his inner bitch.

Hot off the Presses

Pacquiao was banned from a popular Hollywood shopping mall after the article was publicized Tuesday, and an online petition encouraging sponsor Nike Inc. to drop Pacquiao received 4,868 signatures before it was suspended Wednesday morning. The petition site, change.org, posted a note saying that the author of the original article had clarified that Pacquiao didn’t cite the Bible passage.

It seems that when people start talking reckless, about shit they should be talking about, and there is a backlash that may hurt their wallets, there inner bitch that comes out. It makes sense that Pacquiao would change his position. By being a boxer and politician at the same time there probably will be some prison time, and no matter how good a boxer he is  he cant knock out10 prisons who are intent on making him toss their salad. So its best to back down a bit.  We all like rotisserie chicken we all don’t want to be the victim of being rotisserie’d in prison over a spit of ballsack and crotchial heat (yeah I just coined that their crotchial hear). Well I dont want to at least.

Double Speak

Boxer and politician Manny Pacquiao

Pacquiao says some weird thing which I think are insincere:

  • Pacquiao said Wednesday in an interview with The Associated Press that he doesn’t support gay marriage because of his Roman Catholic beliefs. But he said he has gay friends and relatives, and supports their rights.

I thought marriage was a legal right. It’s funny to support the rights of his gay friend and relatives but not their right to marry. I think if Roman Catholics don’t wants gays to get married  they should close their doors to them like they do the homeless on the cold winter night, ignore them like they do the kids who are victims of sodomy. In an American court of Law I am not sure what religion has to do with any human rights!!!!

  • “My favorite verse in the Bible is ‘Love one another,’ and ‘Love your neighbor as you love yourself,'” Pacquiao said. “It’s in the Bible: Do not judge. I’m not judging.”

I don’t know whats worse:  how people misconstrue the word judgement, or how they openly admit to not think for themselves and using a book to guide their lives. Doing it doggy style isn’t in the bible or snorting blow isn’t in the bible, and Im pretty sure boxing for money isn’t in the Bible either but I’m pretty sure when Pacquiao was done boxing, snorting blow he was stuffing chicks doggy style like Christmas time at the UPS store.

Final thoughts

Pacquiao chuckled at the knowledge that his words — even words he said he didn’t say — carry more weight than those of an average athlete because of his political aspirations.

You see Pacquiao has political aspirations, he is congressman, representing the Sarangani province in the Philippines’ House of Representatives since May 2010.

Manny  is experiencing a new-found passion for his religion and has socially conservative views in line with many Filipinos’ beliefs.  While that is true, if I was  a gay Filipino, I would be writing Manny Pacquiao letters asking him to give me a kiss, because I like to be kissed when I being fucked.

My homey, The Sandy Tongue said it best:

Isn’t it amazing how the media has a made a dude who hits other dudes in the head worth something? I give Manny credit though, he is acting 100% like a great Southern Baptist. I would love to see Mayweather beat his ass.

I would trust Sylvester Stallone as a politician. Like Pacquiao he is used to bullshitting in front of a camera, but unlike Pacquiao he has the decency to not take the role he is playing seriously. BTW Art doesn’t imitate life, in Rocky a brain dead speech challenged boxer  has enough coordination and grey matter to sorta run a  restaurant after his career is over. But here we have Manny Pacquiao Manny Pacquiao a brain dead speech challenged boxer who some how is a politician  and he believe that his enthusiasm for Jesus give him the right to spew his agenda outside of the places where he banged all those whores.

I think secretly when he was high on blow Pacquiao sack tickled and got sacked tickled by a tranny and since then he doesn’t approve same sex marriage because he cant get the taste of man-milk, lint and ball sweat out of his head.

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tmi-award

TMI: Most Embarrasing Night


The TMI Blog Award honors those blogs that discuss everything in detail and do it well. These bloggers aren’t afraid to discuss their most awkward, embarrassing and intimate experiences with honesty, humor and little to no filter.

The Rules

Thank the person who presented you with the award.
Link back to the blogger who presented the award to you.
Share an awkward, embarrassing and intimate story in 250 words or less.
Copy and paste the blog award on your blog.
Present the TMI Blog Award to 5 – 10 deserving blogs.
Let them know they have been chosen by leaving a comment at their blog.

HERE WE FUCKING GO!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEE

Thanks to TheSandyTongue for nominating me and encouraging me to share a terribly embarrassing moment in my life.

People Nominated

KissTheMuse
Edward Hotspur
Ms. Ashley
Becoming Cliche
Suzanita

The BackStory

It was about three-year ago and change. I was in dire financial straits. I had no money for a coat, the electricity was turned on and off so many times it didn’t make sense to buy groceries. My lady at the time had recently started working so there was an end in sight for the financial difficulties. I changed my hours around so that I could leave work at 10 PM and to save money for transportation walk about 60 blocks in the cold to wait for her on 11 avenue.

NYC isn’t as cold then as it used to be in my memory but it was still freezing and  I had only thermals and to move around to keep warm. 11th and 12th avenue for those of you who don’t know is right next to the river. At around time I was there the winds where fiercely strong and doubly icy. Sometimes she had to work overtime without prior notification and I would die out there. I didn’t feel comfortable hanging in the lobby of the building as I wasn’t a part of the neighborhood, I didn’t fit in, and didn’t want to depend on the temperamental niceness of the lobby attendant.

The Set-up

It was tough but I was there to greet her every night and sometimes when I saved up my change I got her something she would like to lighten her mood. This one day I managed to put together enough money to eat something from McDonalds which was conveniently located 2 blocks from the 59 street Columbus circle train station. Twenty minutes later I was in intense stomach pain but unfortunately stuck on the 2 train very far from my apartment in the Bronx. There was congestion on the train and last-minute we were stuck between stations for the longest time, and I knew that I couldn’t make it till my apartment.

I informed my lady of what was going on/ I told her I had to get off the next station and think fast.I said Id call her and not to worry. The next station was 138th street on the number train. It’s the first stop in the Bronx. When one is coming in from Manhattan. I remember seeing some fast food places across from a jail and I thought I could maybe use the bathroom there.

The Climatic Moment

I scanned the streets after I got off, and no bathroom in sight. I walked up and down one street. I knew that any second now that without having to use the excuse of pretending to be a hose for an avant-garde play I was going to like Old Faithful in Yellowstone, make a double delivery. It seems that with serious food poisoning no orifice is safe.

I had the wherewithal and sense and some years of meditation practice under my belt to slow my breathing down, breathe with the diaphragm and not the lungs, and buy a roll of toilet paper from the window open at the corner store. There was a construction site not to far away at the time, I figured that would be my best best there was scaffolding to obscure the view and being that it was close to 1 am there wouldn’t be people out.

I surveilled the area and I was so incredibly cold. I had had the experience of no heat in winter or sleeping on a drafty floor with a single cover in the winter time, but I was so cold. The only thing I didn’t foresee or expect was there to be shady people who liked the cover the construction site gave them to sell drug and take drugs. This was even for me a pretty crappy part of the Bronx (that was about to get crappier.) There were some huge project looming buildings around.

My relaxed breathing bought me some time, but it was running out.  I found a place between that concealed me enough for me to do my business.  The next few parts are a blur. I threw-up from both ends I felt light-headed, unfortunately during the process there was further down a dude talking on the phone and he didn’t look like your state farm good neighbor. Further down I could hear because of the silence at that time some voice that were coming closer and closer, yet the second of 3 geyser show of the night was starting I was in no position to run, as it was hard enough to keep my balance so I didn’t soil whatever clothing I was wearing. I was still 25 minutes by train from my apartment.

The Happy Ending

My dog happy, in a stylish hand knitted scarf that went wrong

I guess from the pain and strain I started laughing. Because I remember all the times I walked my dog Happy after she ate something ridiculous that gave her the runs. I thought this was some sort of karmic payback for those time when I got mad at her or didn’t take her out enough. I couldn’t stop laughing. Also I was reminded by the steam from a line from the DMX, “It’s Dark and Hell is Hot”. How can somethings so hot come from a body so cold ?

The gang of people turned back and the thugged-out dude left thank God. When the light-headedness/ geyser stopped I cleaned up. Ran back to the train station got home and took the longest shower of my life and laughed hysterically at my fortune with my lady until I passed out and slept for the next 12 hours.

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My Favorite Bloggers As Songs I hear or listen too: TheSandyTongue


You might not be able to tell from my skin color but I love to sing. If you were able to discern such a personal tidbit of information you might be a fan of Mariah Carey. The post Tommy Mattola, Mariah who ate massive quantities of fried chicken, turning black chairs upside down to ride the legs and roll with Puffy

But, in order to steer the conversation back something non-offensive whenever I’m working  I find myself also singing. I’ve a  great love for music in all its shapes and forms and today while scrolling through all the blogs I like and subscribed while I was listening to music and there were a few songs which seemed to match the authors of the blogs  I was reading. So i though why not put together a blog post entitled: My Favorite Bloggers As Songs I hear or listen too:

The SandyTongue

TheSandyTongue has the testicular fortitude (aka cohones)  to speak his mind and be imperially who he is. He is one of the few people who I respect. He is on a continual search for clarity and sense, but isn’t stuck up about it; he is rather down to earth. We may articulate things differently, but we both know what’s up.

The similarities are too much to share:

  1. We both didn’t get the Dick Clarke Obsession
  2. We are both fucking tired of Al Sharpton. You maybe surprised to hear it but not every negro pledges their undying allegiance to him, until that is some cops fuck me up for no reason then I may have use for him
  3. We both can’t get down with Oprah both big and skinny Oprah
  4. We both don’t think the Kardashians should get airtime, especially for mouth milking a D class rapper ( It’s not the 80’s every girl does it )
  5. We both like the works of Charles Bukowski, Sublime, Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughn.
  6. GoldBond’s Medicated Powder – need I say more
  7. He recommend the Vol De Nuit bar in NYC – Belgian Beer and Pommes Frites – I didn’t know about this place before and I will be drowning some sorrows with some friends there this weekend.

The list goes on. I hope in the future to be able to interview the Big Homey, aka MrSandyTongue. Check out the related article section to see where we have collaborated in the past and other posts in common. In the meanwhile Enjoy these two song which in head  remind me of TheSandyTongue. Stayed tuned for the next blogger in the series.

One more time for comic effect

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MrMary Answers a serious Question on Dick Clarke posted on TheSandyTongue Blog


The Drug of Entertainment

“Deep down, no one really believes they have a right to live. But this death sentence
generally stays cosily tucked away, hidden beneath the difficulty
of living. If that difficulty is removed from time to time,
death is suddenly there, unintelligibly.”
Jean Baudrillard, Cool Memories

One of the ramification of the advent of capitalism was that the public sphere instead of being the place for critical decussion of the world’s events and the issues of the day as it was in the 18th century after the a mixture of things like The French Revolution, Napoleanic Wars, etc, dethroned the entrenched representative form of government and its means of control, got co-opted as a place to sell product and the basis for the mass consumption.

Mass consumption in many ways enforces a reality that keeps us blind to the hidden sentence that stays tucked away behind the difficulty. For our entertainment we are given to music which as one write has aptly described in the followign scence:

…Still he had been touched in a way by there brand of music, where they, too, try to get away from the weight of routine and the crushing misery of having to do the same thing every day. . .  While it’s playing, they can shuffle about or a whole with a life that has no meaning. …..[…]… Nobody can resist music. You don’t know what to do with your heart, you’re glad to give it away. At the bottom of all music you have top hear the tune without notes, made jut for us, the tune of Death.

-Celine Journey to the End of the Night

So Now the Question:

Why does America give a fuck about Dick Clark dying?

Dick Clark the Symbol

Since the mass majority of us did not know Dick Clark personally, it is clear to me, especially by all the media attention that he was an important symbol,  his presence on the TV symbolized something the mass majority of us identify with.

To me Dick Clark was a symbolic representation of the deep seated American fear of its own mortality individually as well collectively. He was America’s oldest teenager meaning he was the person who represented a steadfastness to keep one’s head in the sand while the world around hims changed and moved onwards.

I remember being a teenager. In retrospect I can describe it as being perpetually stuck between two extremes: the blissful ignorance of childhood, and the bitter cynicism of adult responsibility and empty pleasure. I wouldn’t want to be called America’s oldest teen. [Btw- I hated being a teen, no one took me seriously, no lady wanted to open her frontal orifice up for probing or exploration for the simple fact that I have a winning smile.] Dick Clarke symbolize our being terrible stuck at a crossroads. He was for me a scene from Waiting for Godot perpetually stuck at a crossroad.

We (the USA) are at a point where we haven accepted and embraces ourselves and our history for what it is and most of us want to be left alone. We don’t want to see the fallout victims of the wars we are waging. We don’t want to talk about the poor and hungry Americans. We just want our tunes to drown out the sounds of our hearts and soul dying as we consumer more and more without stopping to breathe. Why? because life has already passed us by but like Mr Clarke post-stroke we force ourselves to continue on when here is no need to.

I’d Pretty much come  to the point, the age you might say, when a man knows what he’s losing  with every hour that passes. But he hasn’t yet built up the wisdom to pull up sharp on the road of time, and anyway, even if you did stop you wouldn’t know what to do without the frenzy for going forward  that has possessed you and won your admiration ever since you were young. Even now you’re not so pleased with your youth as you used to be, but you don’t dare admit in public that youth may be nothing more than hurrying to grow old.

In the whole of your absurd past you discover so much that’s absurd, so much deceit and credulity, that i might be a good idea to stop being young this minute, to wait for youth to break away from you and pass you by, to watch it going away receding in the distance, to see all its vanity, run your hand throught eh empty spac eit left behind, take a last look at it, and then start moving, make sure your youth has really gone, then calmly, all by yourself, cross to the other side of Time, to see what people and things really look like. 

-Celine Journey to the End of the Night

Dick Clarke The Man
RIP, Rest in Peace!

BTW- Because I am a NY’er it doesn’t mean I like the ball dropping New Years Eve thing. Outside of battling the advances of a dark deep-seated  loneliness with absorption ability of a tube sock, I don’t like watching the ball drop on New Years Eve, unless that is the name the girl I’m with that night used to dance under, then let the ball(s) drop irresponsibly, chin and all.

The Question from TheSandyTongueBlog here

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