Jamaicans may not be the gulliest Caribe peoples, but Jamaican women stay off the chain on some 7-thirty shit. Just peep the Dutty Weave Wine dance.
Archive for June, 2006
BILLY SUNDAY’s LATE NITE FUNK FLIX
Friday, June 30th, 2006Secret Confessions from BILLY SUNDAY: THE ‘X’ FACTOR (ReMix)
Friday, June 30th, 2006
When I had a girlfriend I used to start arguments with her just because. She was a really good girl except for those couple of times when she slept with the dudes that I grew up with, but since she was never actually asleep I really didn’t count those moments. I argued with her over other shit. Like the fact that she always placed the toilet cover down. I felt that if I had no problem keeping the seat down she could at least do me a favor and keep the cover up. That way I could pee right thru the hole in the seat. No problem. Because she was a generally good girl I could only start fights with her over trivial meaningless crap.
However, there was one big thing that she did that I couldn’t stand. She was ‘best’ friends with all her ex-boyfriends. I am not just talking about the generic e-mail or occaisional phone call type of friends, but the “let’s go out for drinks after ten p.m. on a school nite” type of friends. That and the fact that there was a sizable portion of her budget devoted to sending presents and crap to her ex-boyfriends’ families. Mother’s Day flowers are kind of sweet, but a $300 MaClaren stroller for a second cousin’s baby shower?!? What kind of bullshit is this?!? These dudes were not her babies daddies?!?(Real Talk is that she had no kids due to her frequent visits to Planned Parenthood during the time she was dating these fellas).
What emotional/physical/spiritual food do the ex-boyfriend/girlfriends provide that folks have to keep them in their life after the romance relationship has gone south? I couldn’t see the point. I am not friends with anyone that I used to date. As a matter of fact, I think that everyone that I used to date will rush out to the wine store and buy a bottle of 1982 Veuve-Cliquot just so that they can pop a bottle of champagne when they get the news that I have died. O.K. maybe not that drastic, but there will be hell’a smiles being cracked. This is why I couldn’t understand my former girlfriends obsession with remaining friends with her ex’s.
Her first argument for the continuance of these liasions was always that these dudes were her friends before I came into the picture and to ask her to divorce herself from these people was to take away a piece of her personality. These fellas were part of her growth as a person so for her to sever the communication was to act as if she found herself on her own. GAWD DAMN! I wasn’t asking her to throw away all of her pictures and her love notes!!! My point was that having an ex-boyfriend as an activity pal is bad fucking business. Oops, did I say ‘fucking’?!? Well that is what the fuck I mean! Chicks already have a leg up(pun intended) on fellas when it comes to access of random sexual partners but when a female has the availability of a familiar genitalia she is invincible.
How do you stop the two of them from hooking up? You can’t. She would be pissed off at me for yelling at her for not tucking the flat sheet under the mattress and then the next thing I know is that I have a voicemail on my cellphone telling me that she is off getting cocktails with friends(note to all readers: when someone leaves a person’s name out of the conversation it is always to fuck with your head) A month later it would leak out that she went to the Knicks game with her ex who just happens to be the president of promotional advertising at Geffen records. She knew how much I loved the Knicks because I would always put on my Sprewell jersey when the games were televised on MSG. For a brief second I had caught blood in my eye. I was Latrell Sprewell and she was P.J. Carlessimo. I won’t go into details because they are contained in a police report filed at the 115th precinct.
At this point in my life I realize that the first thing that I have ask a prospective new girlfriend is whether or not she is still ‘friends’ with her any of her ex’s. The very next question will be if she has ever pressed charges.
NIGGAZ AND WHITE GIRLZ (ReMix)
Friday, June 30th, 2006
Bay Area rap music isn’t afraid to push the levels upward when it comes to artistic content. Beautiful Hustle has a dope hyphee video with KEAK Da SNEAK and E-40 on blast at her site. Click the link here and watch the video. Hopefully all the hits won’t smash her bandwidth.
Shouts to my boy GUY RILLA, the TECHWHORE. Dude straight-laced me with a concept album from KIRBY DOMINANT and CHRIS SINISTER titled ‘Niggaz and White Girlz’. Don’t let the title put you off. This shit is some of the best Hip-Hop I have listened to in a long time. When was the last time that you listened to an entire album just because it was good? If you are younger than thirty (or Black?!?) you won’t recognize a single sample on their album.
That isn’t exactly true either, but if you grew up in the eighties without any white friends then you missed out on some innovative and creative music. KIRB and CHRIS freak their entire album with new wave pop music samples. The loop from GARY NUMAN’s ‘Cars’ is sick to death and when you listen to these dudes rhyme over the track you may just realize what the missing link is.
There is a vast treasure trove of untapped samples that exists in the land known as ‘white music’ which 1980’s new wave occupies along with punk rock and several other genres. Current producers are either ignorant or scared of repurposing this music, but there is a tremendous amount of soul contained in the grooves of THOMAS DOLBY, the CLASH, INXS, KRAFTWERK, GARY NUMAN, NINE INCH NAILS, the POLICE, et.al.
It was a grand plot of the devil to name people Black and white since no human can actually be either extreme tone. Humans in their ultimate folly and lazy stupidity have accepted this division because they want to believe that there will be some privilege that it engenders. Possibly a V.I.P. pass to the champagne room. Some heaven on Earth. Whatever. I am not going to pretend that the KIRB and CHRIS album will bring you closer to GOD, but it is a damn good album to keep in the car while driving.
Or while sitting in your parents’ basement, sipping on Crystal Light from your favorite cup with the crazy straw, blogging our azz off like theres no tomorrow.
Art or Commercial Bullshiite? (ReMix)
Friday, June 30th, 2006
A few months ago we nailed home the concept that this Hip-Hop shit wasn’t thorough enough to be called a culture. After reading the latest Vanity Fair rag I found out that the Hip-Hop that I was brought up on wasn’t even art. Its all commercial bullshiite.
The Vanity Fair article detailed the true story of the Robinson family, the founders of SugarHill Records. The story decribed how the Robinson family was indebted up to their eyeballs to the T.I. mafia. They were desperate to find that ‘next nigger shit’. SYLVIA ROBINSON goes to the legendary Harlem World nightclub to see what kind of disco music the jigs are vibing to. She experiences a Hip-Hop party and right then she knows that she has stumbled onto her pot of gold. She can’t understand what is being said by the emcees and she could care less, all she knows is that this thing is going to be huge. She runs back to New Jersey and literally picks up three jigs off the street and brings them to her home studio. Listening to ‘Rapper’s Delight’ it wasn’t hard to tell that the music was stolen from the CHIC classic ‘Good Times’, but the hammer that was dropped on my head is this… most of the ryhmes used for the song were stolen from the rhymebook of GRANDMASTER CAZ. One of the emcees on the record was a manager for COLD CRUSH BROTHERS and asked CAZ if he could borrow his rhymebook for a meeting he had in New Jersey. CAZ thought that he might be getting put on so he gave up his book to that loser. How apropo is it that the very first incarnation of recorded Hip-Hop has jigs stealing other jigs creative talent? I won’t even complain now when JAY-Z does a cover of B.I.G.’s ‘Juicy’.
Fast forward to the present and Hip-Hop, ne, crap music is a global phenomenon in how it mobilizes and motivates the youth. Crap music determines what is of value to these kids. It constantly tells them what to buy. What has become even more insipid is that crap music tells people what to think and how to react. The pathos of ‘Get Rich or Die Trying’ is that you would do anything for money. That life has a transferrable price in dollars and cents. 50 CENTS.
CURTIS JACKSON is crap music’s greatest prophet for profit because he has maximized his popularity by being this multimedia juggernaut. You can’t turn away from the 50 CENTS character. The television plays his music videos and then incessantly airs commercials that hype the big screen biopic coming to theaters this month. The radio plays the soundtrack to his videogame. I walk into a bookstore in order to escape the madness and right in the center of the store is an entire table table filled with 50 CENTS’ book. Yes, his book! This last irony forces me to sit down in one of the oversized leather chairs and contemplate the future of the children that I see around me. 50 CENTS considered the only two options for his life were guns or microphones. He never mentioned books.
50 CENT says in one of the voiceovers segments for the movie that he got into crap music because unlike drugs he couldn’t be prosecuted for selling a lot of records. That was the motivation for this ‘bullshiite artist’. Crap music will never again be art. It’s all just commercial bullshiite.
The Hardest Working Man In Showbiz
Friday, June 30th, 2006
Now I see the reason that DIDDY, The King of all Jigs, can’t stop, won’t stop dancing.
Fuck a grocery bill, do you know what the sunglass budget for all these jig babies must look like?!?