Archive for the ‘40 Deez’ Category

From Gold, To Shackles, Back To Gold by 40 DIESEL

Wednesday, August 13th, 2008

1968

Editor’s note: 40 Diesel is my man like fifty grand so I will allow him to say anything he wants to on this site. He can even exhalt in the triumphs of athletes who are no where near as courageous as the two pictured above. Leave it to 40 however to redefine patriotism through the liberation of one’s paycheck. Read on DP Dot Commenters…

As if you didn’t know already, the Olympics are underway in all of its glory and all of its gall. The Olympics used to be a place of international competition and the overall goodwill of humanity through sport, but in the modern era its been come the global pulpit where grievances and pride are aired and displayed. Much ado has been made about China’s role in the situation in Darfur, and many of the “Official Corporate Sponsors” i.e. Coke and the like are catching grief under guilt by association. Honestly unless someone gets the balls to do something in line with TOMMIE SMITH and JOHN CARLOS in the ’68 Mexico City Games, then its just more liberal hustler propaganda (ala the Obama tee), because we need so save Baltimore as well as Darfur – IF NOT FIRST. Its gonna take a more profound act than bitching or some random rubber bracelet.

One of the common targets of corporate sponsorship/irresponsibility by the arm chair granola set is one of my beloved brands – The Nike Corporation of Beaverton, Oregon. Nike is always catching beef from the New Balance liberal hustler set for their labor practices and their sneaker prices. However there is no denying Nike’s influence on the global athletic community, and isn’t that what the Olympics is about anyway? Nike’s global positioning is no accident and the global icon and pitchman that is probably most responsible for this is His Airness MICHAEL JEFFREY JORDAN. MJ is no stranger to the Olympics, having won two gold medals, first in the ’84 LA Games, and the other with the team of universe beaters aka “The Dream Team” in the ’92 Barcelona games.

Lets be real for a second – DAVID STERN gave Jordan the job, but Nike made Jordan the global icon, to which Stern’s NBA is still reaping the benefits from. To this day Nike is still a corporate king maker of athletes, and their list of endorsers will shake the foundation of what ever sport they outfit for these dudes for. Having lost out on the NBA/NFL outfitting contracts a few years back, Nike had been itching to get their Swoosh on American professional athlete’s uniforms. Well they got their wish as Olympic outfitters most important USA Basketball which was renamed “The Redeem Team” for the ’08 Beijing Games.

So of course in true Nike fashion they’ve gone all in for this. They’ve debuted the HYPERDUNK, Nikes newest sneaker technology since they debuted the SHOX in the 2000 Sydney Games (“Hey Fred Weis, tell me how my sack tastes” – Vince Carter). Also, whats Nike with out some jaw-dropping. awe-inspiring, game-changing commercial that makes you understand why they’re running this shit literally and figuratively? I give you 40’s “Exhibit A”:

Come on man. Thats that shit right there. I’m sending that advertising a firm a Kwanzaa card this December. Plus what I love about this year’s men’s hoops squad is the bigger picture they represent. Don’t let the media MICHAEL PHELPS you to death, his quest for individual success is great and all, and as America’s premiere white Olympic athlete he’s gonna get alot of deserved coverage. However the global community is getting tired of America’s individualistic posturing, and with the proverb of “It takes a village to raise a child”, its gonna take a team to raise this nation. That team is the US Men’s Basketball team.

At the opening game against the Chinese National Squad, KOBE BRYANT was mobbed while G-G-G-G DUBYA was merely golf clapped out of diplomatic politeness. LEBRON, ‘MELO, WADE and the rest of the team are rock stars in the Olympic Village, all while maintaining a level of humility focused on the goal of THE GOLD. Most of (white) America would love to paint these guys as cocky, brash spoiled NBA brats, which just isn’t the case. The guys who were on the team who are carrying the shame of the ’04, third place finish are motivated (LeBRONZE JAMES), and all these men have said that this experience is bigger and more important than any NBA title they’ve ever competed for or won. They have elevated themselves over the simplistic critiques of being a team of primadonnas to a cohesive unit with a singular goal. Who says that brothers can’t get along?

I don’t know how the rest of the world sees this team, but it does my heart proud to see the descendants of chattel slaves, evolve in to a solid BILLION DOLLARS of black wealth out there defending the pride of this country. These are the disciples of Jordan. They understand the game and the blueprint he’s laid out for them to follow and improve upon. Represent for your responsibilities, and handle your business. America may chide these young men for not having a college degree between them, but they damn sure know history and economics. They understand that they have a job to do as ambassadors, but also know they are global icons and thats gonna cost anyone who wants a piece of that. If you want us to represent this country which has been egregiously thankless to us, then we’re gonna redefine our American and get our slice if the pie even if gotta bake it ourselves. Thats why Kobe & Co got Stern a little nervous when they all more than admitted they’d be foolish not to take a $50M European deal…

And I completely understand that mentality. Whether its Crispus Attucks in Boston, or Joe Louis vs. Max Schmelling, America will rally behind its Negroes when their causes are the same, just for them to return to “their spot” in line when the aim is achieved. Think I’m lying, read any NBA beat writer come January. All that good will they had for these guys after they get the gold will all be vanquished, and they’ll be back to “million dollar thug crybabies”. If I’ve seen it once, I’ve seen it a million times. So get that gold medal fellas, and get all the gold that goes along with it. And if that leads you to foreign shores, NBA hoopsters than do what you got to. But for now rock the Stars & Stripes with pride and what ever swagger you have to – this is your country fellas. I for one am proud.

BTW – thanks to NaS for the title of this drop. “You Can’t Stop Us Now” has become that anthem… “From pyramids, to cotton fields, to Wrigley Field.”

NaS featuring EBAN THOMAS – ‘You Can’t Stop us Now’

P.S.: Dallas the challenge is for you to get that ‘LO lifestyle Olympic Ceremony blazer. Considering I scooped the ROOTS USA Jacket form the ’04 Athens Games, its gotta be out there to be had!!!!

Tempered Expectations for Barack Obama by 40 DAWG

Thursday, August 7th, 2008

barack

Editor’s note: Just like Bo Jackson, 40 DAWG knows that a hero ain’t nuthin’ but a sandwich.

As the election and football season draws nigh I am reminded of a previous black “first” that I was involved with that serves as a reminder to temper my expectations for presumed Democratic Candidate and political rock star Barack Obama.

It was my freshman year in college and as my beloved Temple Owls were closing in on another forgetful season, the winds of change were a blowing and it was pretty much cut in stone that the current head coach was on his way out. There were several choices out there but the name that kept coming up was this young up and coming defensive coordinator from Clemson University, who was responsible for one of the top defenses in collegiate football.

This (relatively) young coach had a pedigree of major college programs, won a national title as an assistant coach at Penn State and was even a member of the undefeated ’72 Dolphins. His coaching tome of defensive back drills was critically lauded as a handbook. Groomed and lauded by his peers, and stamped with approval by our illustrious alum and fellow Fighting Owl Dr. William H. (The Cos) Cosby. By our last game of the season the head coach was a lame duck and it was becoming a veritable free for all, the successor had been named, and in agit-prop mentality of the early 1990s, much to the chagrin of the current outgoing staff, I even wore a Clemson fitted to our last home came in salute to this new brother coming aboard.

Temple University was making history, for all the years brothers have been on the gridiron never had one cracked the head coaching fraternity on the highest Division 1 Level. Enter RON DICKERSON, suave debonair cat, with Billy Dee Williams looks and charm and did it with out ever taking a sip of Colt 45. Though he lacked any head coaching experience, he was named the first black/African-American/Negroe/whatever term you prefer, NCAA Division 1 Football head coach in history, and word to EDDIE ROBINSON we were proud. Here we were a program looking for a beacon of hope and in the throes of North Philly craziness we had a brother than was gonna take us to the next level.

ron dickerson

It was an interesting time because in my young college football career the idea of a regime change let alone getting an HNIC was mind blowing and I believed in my heart of hearts that I was gonna do my part to help this brother succeed. I was also interesting because I knew that for some of my teammates this was one of the few black male role models that many had and what a shining example he was gonna be. He was all spit and polished, said he was gonna buy a house next to campus and open his home to his players and be that surrogate home for his new extended family. Point blank we were all entranced. However if I ever had an example of “all that glitters ain’t gold” this was the true and living proof of that adage.

I will spare the reader minutia of his shortcomings, for the lines of fact, perception, and opinion tend to blur in a way that would come off more as “hood lore” rather than hard journalism. However, I do find comfort in stating that the mass majority of my former teammates can all offer their varying degrees of responses about him ranging from forgetful nonchalance to vigorous contempt.

So what created this bevy of naysayers and malaise to a veritable racial pioneer of his field? Some of the circumstances;

As black players we felt that after toiling under white head coaches that some how our position in life would improved because we had “one of our own” running the show. A damaging fallacy that in a lot of ways worked out as well as thinking that West African chief was inviting you over to shake your hand with those tall ships looming out at sea.

Thinking that there was some common experience that he would be sympathetic and guiding as an authority figure to impressionable young men, who were still learning the ropes of life themselves and trying to pass Math 101 at the same time. He failed immensely on “being there” for his players who probably believed in him (and wanted to) more than he believed in himself. (More or less it generally came off like Dave Chappelle on Oprah. Where as Oprah could have guided Dave as elder and success blueprint she chose to talk at him rather than to him.)

I use these two examples to show that although they were character flaws of the man himself, in several ways they were self-inflicted disappointments because our propensity to suspend critical thinking and assessment of those who look like us that have never been in such positions of authority. Which brings me to Barack Obama.

In no way am I any less proud of what Obama has achieved at this point in the game. In fact I remember the pride I had when I realized I was going to be part of history playing for the first black football head coach in NCAA D1 history, and the feelings were quite similar. However I implore you to not invest everything in the mere melanin tonality of the figurehead. Sometimes we get so caught up in the aspect of “change” that we lose the objectivity to wholly critique the situation at hand, especially when its one of our own.

So in essence I’m imparting a brief overview of a similar experience to not lose sight of where you are in America, and make sure that at least one of your current wrongs are righted during his presidency. If not have the fortitude and wherewithal to make sure you make a way to survive regardless. For if we all sit there thinking “we made it” upon his election you’ll be in for a rude awakening once the hangover wears off. So ease back on the witty tees and celebrity endorsements because ultimately he’s got a job to do that goes a lot farther than “First Black President”…

I close this lengthy rant with a conversation I had when this coach was going to take the job. One of our academic advisers who was also proud of the coach-elect asked me:


“How does it feel to have a black coach?”

“Its cool, but its not everything, I just wanna win.”
“Really, I thought it would mean everything.”
“Hell I’ll play for the head of the Klan if he can get me a national championship.”

The point is this, we can not get caught up in the person, and absolve them from their job which is to get results. Dickerson wound up going 8-47 (.145) and is currently out of coaching. Barack Obama? Well we’ll just have to wait and see….

(BTW – If somehow you Googled yourself and find this write up Ron, I wanna thank you and your elastic spine for teaching me very valuable life lessons at such a young age. I still await the day to sit down to talk to you man-to-man, we’re going on 11 years and counting… #68)

HO SIT DOWN!

Tuesday, July 29th, 2008

brett favre

Editor’s note: 40 Diesel gets the DP Dot Com family hyped up for the 2009 season of “Not For Long”.

I hate this time of year in regards to sports, there’s nothing popping at all. I root for the Amazin’s, and I’m glad to see them get to first place (much to the demise of Brownsville’s WILLIE RAN), but I’m not gonna front beisbol is like a distant fifth in sports interest to your dude. My other love – GOLF is on a serious back burner, since EL TIGRE is laid up on IR and its not as much fun with him out there rattling people’s cages. So until the Olympics kick in providing a respite from the doldrums of sport, I have to keep my eyes on the start of NFL camps and prepping for the greatest sport of them all. News of NFL training camp has always been a bittersweet moment. It signals the start of my favorite sport, but is also signals the death knell for summer. These NFL camps got off to an interesting start with the impending “un-retirement” of Mississippi’s own BRETT FARVE. Seems like ole #4 can’t just seem to hang them up, and like most vanity driven athletes/celebrities realized that “they just can’t leave it alone, the game needs me!!!”

The problem is this Brett, other than your ego – YOU HAVE NO REASON TO RETURN!

Much like MICHAEL JORDAN pushing off BRYON RUSSELL to hit the chip-clinching shot, you couldn’t pick a better season to retire off of. Going an unexpected 13-3, The Pack threatened the NFC for a Super Bowl birth and over the course of this season Farve broke DAN MARINO’S records for Passing Yardage and Touchdowns. With the new found running game led by RYAN GRANT, and the ever patient AARON RODGERS waiting in the wings, it looked lovely in Lambeau. FARVE retired on great terms, and set up his beloved franchise of a decade and a half in great shape for the future. All was well in the NFL’s smallest market, in fact the NFL loved FARVE so much the set up his jersey retirement ceremony on one of the biggest nights of the season – the 2008 regular season debut of Monday Night Football, at Lambeau against long time division rivals the Minnesota Vikings. Pretty much perfect…. NO?

NOPE. Brett got antsy and is getting his best “Mama Said Knock You Out” on and is calling it a comeback, for the third offseason/preseason in a row, and because of this I’d like to nominate him for a DPdotcom “HO SIT DOWN!”

Why? Brett you’re old. Know when to leave the party. Think about NAMATH as a Ram, MONTANA as a KC Chief, EMMITT as a Cardinal, MJ as a Wizard, post-Black Album JAY-Z… Outside of jersey sales there is nothing memorable about people sticking around longer than they need to. Do you not know you’re tempting fate by coming back and sullying what was a great career? Brett we’ve ignored your addiction to pain killers, the fact you have the career record for INTERCEPTIONS, and other less memorable facets of your career, but this one is quite inexcusable, and dare I say disrespectful to the NFL. I’ve always admired that the NFL made sure that no individual player was ever greater than the league itself, but Commissioner ROGER GODDELL is effin’ up on this one. Its over my man, you had a great run, but now you’re coming off like a bitter ICE-T, hating on SOULJA BOY.

So in closing, Brett…

HO SIT DOWN!!! (Please)

SEPARATED AT BIRTH: ATLiens…

Monday, July 7th, 2008

bib fortuna

Knickerbocker nemesis REGGIE MILLER = Jabba the Hutt weedcarrier Bib Fortuna

Mighty Healthy’s 40 DAWG gets into the S.A.B. act.

This reminds me that I need to rock my Mighty healthy gear this week.

More Bounce To The Ounce (The P.B.R. Remix)

Sunday, June 1st, 2008

bums in love

Editor’s note: I threw up the remix because I was headed to a hipster cookout in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Instead of bringing a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon I thought I would bring a few quarts of Champale, or maybe even Cisco. The YouTube vids are linked from the classic drop on the history of malt liquor @ ‘What Would Thembi Do?

New York City has hosted many legendary parties over the years. One of the greatest Hip-Hop parties never played any rap music, but you were just as likely to see A-list producers and industry heads up in there on the regulack. The party was called ‘Soul Kitchen’ and that is what was on the menu all night. Classic funk and soul music that was being sampled by the best producers from New York to Los Angeles blared from the speakers.

The hosts of the party provided free fried chicken to all of the party goers that got there early enough and whichever venue held the party also sold quarts of Colt 45. We were sure that Hip-Hop was going to change the world. The only problem is that we were also smoking three or four White Owl blunts a night and occasionally popping an orange barrel, but gottdammit we could buy a quart of that BILLY DEE for only $3 bucks.

Eventually Soul Kitchen would stop being the spot and we would finally have to face the facts that Hip-Hop was just music that filled up a broader consumer lifestyle. As rappers spoke on consuming luxury items Heinekins and Coronas kicked malted liquors to the curb, relegating them to has-been crackhead status. This post is an homage to all of the brands that I have sampled through my years as a high school dropout, journalistic wannabe.

Old derrty OLDE ENGLISH 800
O.E. is the gold standard for malt liquors. It has a nice even taste and is palatable when warm, like say about 9a.m. after you have finally awoken and you have to go to work and there is still a couple of White Castles left on the kitchen counter and you realize that half a blunt is still sitting in the ash tray.

By the way, who is that chick in the bedroom?!?


family ties COLT 45
Colt Fo’ Fizzle never really got the props it deserved for being as smooth as it was. It was like drinking water, but after two or three tall cans you were hit in the face. Try not to take a piss on this stuff because once the seal is broken you might as well just stay in the bathroom.

crazy CRAZY HORSE
True story is that the Native American called CRAZY HORSE was some kind of wild activist against alcohol and its effects on Native American peoples. That’s why you can never trust white. As soon as you are dead they flip your legacy into his story.

If Crazy Horse is what we drunk before going to a Hip-Hop party, someone was going to get duffed out crazily that night.


p.s. PRIVATE STOCK
My homie COMBAT JACK always talks about how good Private Stock was. Truth is that it was aiiight, but it’s always a smart move to let the chicks see you with something different in your hand than O.E.

nic the spic BALLANTINE ALE
This was my brand for flipping the script and going classy with it. Ballantine was hearty too. Where as you needed at least two O.E.’s to get pissy, one and a half Ballantines’ would put you on the path to Negro nonsense.

d'angelo's meatbag MIDNIGHT DRAGON
Hide the women and children. The first time that I ever got crackhead stoned off alcohol was prah’lee after having a forty ounce of this shit. It is deadlier than that bumwine called Cisco. I remember being in a whorehouse on Roosevelt Avenue with T.C. and I threw up all over the waiting room. We were kicked out and T.C. laughed at me all the way home. That’s what you get for drinking a .99cent forty.

baywatch beatbox CHAMPALE
If you have never had Pink Champale you have never lived. Fuck all of that Moet Nectar and all that other bullshit that costs $50 a bottle. At the end of the evening it is all going into the sewer anyhoo. Nah’Mean?!?