TERRENCE ‘SLICKBACK’ HOWARD = 80’s Baby DENZEL W.

August 29th, 2006

pimp soup

I can’t think of a movie with Black people in it made in the last ten years that doesn’t have TERRENCE ‘SLICKBACK’ HOWARD in the cast. Dude has become ubiquitous like those cheap Chinese slippers you see all the girls wearing. I am not saying that he is a cheap performer or brings a cheapness to the projects that he works on because he actually does the opposite.

I saw the Outkast movie over the weekend and SLICKBACK essentially outperformed everyone else on the screen. Not just Andre3000 and Big Boi, but everybody, including the veteran VING RHAMES. I am happy for SLICKBACK because he is singlehandedly bringing lightskin brothers back to the top of the Negro pecking order. We have been in a helluva drought since AL B. (I blame KIM), but SLICKBACK is putting in some mean green eyed work.

If I were a rapper trying to become an actor I would think twice about being cast opposite SLICK. Dude is letting everybody know what’s really good right now and it ain’t CURTIS.

curt and slickback

Posted in Crappers, Fashion Faux Pas, Ghetto Celebs, Straight Laced | 13 Comments »

COMBAT JACK: Number #1 With A Bullet!

August 28th, 2006

apocalypse now

Editor’s note: Combat Jack’s reply that should have squashed all of the divisive language about 70’s babies versus 80’s babies must have fallen on the deaf ears of XXLonline’s secondstring staffer Sickamore. So it looks like the kid has decided to step into the arena where grown azz men come to put in work. I wish people would get their minds’ right and stop calling everything a hustle. Hard work isn’t a hustle. Growing up in the world isn’t a hustle either. A hustle is trying to make ends off other folks’ backsweat. A hustle is trying to earn a living by selling something that you know nothing about. Leave it to Combat Jack to learn the youth before the apocalypse.

“Back In ’88 When I Was Pushing Weight, You Was a Ballerina, I Got The Pictures, I seen ‘Ya”
-quote from a “70’s” baby

So the other day, I get this surprise e-mail from “THE 80’s baby” over at XXL. Dude reached out on some squash the beef shit. Peep game…

Subject: Dude, lets just end this shit!!!

Date: 8/20/2006 4:15:32 AM Eastern Daylight Time

From: “Sickamore” [sickness@tmail.com]

To: combatjack@gmail.com

Dude, this shit has got to stop. Why you tripping on me man? You and I both know that my ’80’s baby shit is just a gimmick and I’m running with that shit as long as I can. Why can’t you older cats have a sense of humor? Can I live? Even before your post on the internet last week, my boss Craig Kallman at Atlantic has been barking the fuck on me about my lack of decent signings on the label’s roster and how I’m literally “1/2 a step from getting my nigga ass ejected the fuck out of the building”. In addition, there’s a rumor circulating through my circles that my boss over at XXLmag.com, Elliot “YN” Wilson isn’t really feeling my recent posts, all double guessing whether he made the right decision to pay me monthly to write, and is even thinking about replacing me. Combat, I CANNOT AFFORD TO HAVE THIS SHIT CONTINUE OR BUBBLE UP TO THE SURFACE. PLEASE STOP ATTACKING ME. I NEVER DID ANYTHING TO YOU!!!!!!! I really thought about that Willie Lynch shit you dropped and you’re right man, we shouldn’t be beefing against each other. Yo, I know this real cool sexy ass coffee shop in downtown Brooklyn where, you know, we might be able to break bread, build, uh, maybe collab on some shit. My treat! Plus, they serve a mean Vanilla Latte with whipped cream and nuts!!!! Delicious! I’m thinking, yo, that shit would be ill if we did some Jigga and Nas, team up shit on some of my future posts right? ILLMATIC!!!!!!

On the real tho, I’m a nice guy and could really learn a lot from you about how shit went down before I got on in this music shit. You really can’t blame a young nigga like me for popping his collar on some ’80’s shit. Maybe you did the same when you were coming up. Right? Btw, what do you think of Saigon’s latest shit, hot right? I hear you about his picture on his myspace page, but yo, dude’s chest is just so oiled up and massive!!! I heard that chicks dig that, plus it’s only entertainment! Well anyway man, I’m trying to be on my grown man shit about this and am willing to let bygones be bygones. You’re really funny and when we meet (I hope), I promise I’ll put in a good word to Elliot about squeezing you in on the XXLmag.com roster. That would be hot, right? Anyway, if you’re cool with this, please hit me up at sickness@tmail.com. Also, let me know if you know any hot artists looking for a deal, I could really use that shit right about now, nahmean? I’m looking forward to you reaching out CJ, that would be hot! Right? Come on man, let’s do the damned thing. Peace,

Your lil homie (I hope),

Sickamore.

Sheesh, that shit made me feel a bit sorry for the young fella. I do know something about his track record as an employee, especially since his ex-boss Gary (a T.I.) at Beat Street Records in Brooklyn (a record store dude, not a label), used to personally complain ad nasuem to me about how dude was a really piss poor employee (dee jaying in the showroom and sweeping up the stock room). Gary even told me that in an attempt to boost dude’s morale, even though Beat Street never had an effin record company, they used to pay him like $150 a month (on some fake “a&r” shit) to put together weak Beat Street branded mix tapes consisting of several whack local Brooklyn crap niggas that all sounded like a poor man’s version of Jigga, just so the T.I. run store could maintain a good relationship with their younger black rap buying clientele.

Now, I really don’t know where Sic’s going with his e-mail to me, what with all this nonsense about linking up for some latte with nuts and “teaming up”. Nullus on all counts. Dude, er, thanks but no thanks! Plus, you really don’t have to go through the trouble of putting in a good word about me to your boss. But yeah man, I’ll increase the peace. I really hope that shit works out at Atlantic as well. Plus, I’ll do my best to turn a blind eye to your limited 80’s baby gimmick. Do you man. I know my place, it’s your turn scrap, you got the juice now. Plus, trust me son, I don’t need to prove to you that I’m Black, not caucasian. I happened to come across this picture of you trying your damned best to impersonate a 70’s baby? Uh, what’s up with that Sic? Last I heard, Cazal’s was strictly ’70s dun, plus that shit is looking real suspect, what with the lite gloss all up on your lips and all (ewww!)

cazal

I don’t ever remember real dudes rocking rims and wearing MAC lipglass like that back in the day. Come to think of it, that must be some the 80’s baby shit you brag about. That is you in that picture right?!? I’ll let you tell it.

Posted in Black Bullshit, Crappers, Ghetto Celebs, Jig Lit Review, T.O.N.Y. | 40 Comments »

BACK TO SCHOOL: NO MORE FUCKING AROUND

August 27th, 2006

doggystyle

YEEEEEEAH! Back from vaycay or as my Euro clientele call it – holiday. What the fuck has been happening in the world? I have no effing clue, so let me tell you what’s up in my world. I got a kick azz tan with C.S. in Fort Lauderdale. We house-sat one of these Miami Vice type cribs that had windows shades on a remote control, in-ground pool and two Vespa scooters in the garage for us to take down the highway to Miami. C.S. works in the film game and every now and then we get to realize some of the perks that come with knowing influential motion picture types. Membership has it’s privileges…

I just got home from Hotlanta. I spent several days in Marietta helping Ma Dukes get a little bit more settled into her new crib. The next thing for me to do will be to bring down my special cup and crazy straw for any late night writing projects. Good thing she has a basement too. That’s where I do my best work. Speaking of my best work…

Good to see so many familiar faces stopping by the shop even though we were O.T. I hope no one got too bored waiting for new drops from the DP dot com staff. Everybody over here was kind of winded from the heatwave and just the general grind. Believe it or not there have been over a thousand drops posted to this site since we went live exactly one year ago. The world was such a different place one year ago. Hurricane Starrkeysha hadn’t touched the Gulf Coast yet. Only several hundred Americans had been killed in Iraq. BRITNEY SPEARS had just given birth…

Come to think of it, everything was pretty much the same. The big difference for us was going from an e-mail blast into a full fledged website. Only a handful of people migrated with us over to the website. I miss the personal touch that the e-mail blast had with so many of my friends. I don’t really know who if anyone is out here now, but as long as I see someone with their fists raised I will keep doing my thing thing. My only wish for the New Year would be for people to keep fucking up so that I have a reason to write.

For the website’s one year anniversary I have to thank a few people…

BYRON CRAWFORD put the site on blast to his readership and gave us instant credibility and legitimacy on the blogosphere

FRESHALINA @ Crunk & Disorderly befriended me early on and gave me the confidence that my readership would develop (after my first month there was only the sound of crickets in my comments section)

That girl TAM for migrating over to the site from my e-mail blasts and my snail-mail list into being someone who is like my sister from another mister. You made my year when you told me that my site inspired you to get on the internets.

C.S., for being the woman of my dreams, and the APPOLONIA of my eye.

For the rest of the year you may want to hide the women and the chidren ‘cuz we is about to get R.A.W. up in this mug. I know some of you can’t handle the truth.

Posted in Black Bullshit, Fashion Faux Pas, Jig Lit Review, T.O.N.Y. | 6 Comments »

1000 WORDS… (2006 Black Weblog Awards Nominee)

August 27th, 2006

boogeyman

Whoever said a picture was worth a thousand words was sorely mistaken, because the best pictures can transfer their meaning with only one word. The truth is that some words by themselves are worth a thousand words because their meaning wraps around our fundamental notions of the world itself. Love, hate and fear are just three words that can define almost everything around us. It’s primal shit like that people use to control us, to get us up to go to work every day, to make us bust our azz so that we don’t ever have to be with or without those three words.

The boogeyman is someone that we all fear. He lives under our bed or inside the darkened closet, but most of all the boogeyman lives in our hearts. He represents our fear of vulnerability. Forget about rational or irrational values because the boogeyman is real and he is out there somewhere, waiting to jump on us when we are relaxing and just minding our business. You can try to make me feel ashamed for being afraid of the boogeyman, but I retain this fear deep inside of me, and nothing you say can remove it from me. I know the boogeyman exists so you might as well be him.

that niggas crazy

The nigger is still the tragicomic hero of post-modernity. I have tried to explain to people that the word’s etymology describes someone’s profession and not their skin color. Whether you realize it or not, class is still the great divide among people in America. Have you ever met someone for the first time and been asked what you do? It’s as if you are defined by what type of work keeps your light bill paid. When America became an industrialized nation is when being a neggar held the lowest esteem. People were working in factories and offices, but if you were still in the field turning over crops and shoveling shitty ground you were just a lowly nigger.

As a matter of fact, even if you migrated to the industrialized centers to seek work you were still regarded as expendable so the name stuck with you. As a matter of fact you embraced the name as only you people can do. You made it your de facto endearment greeting. Nobody really took the time to examine how important the neggar really is. As the person who works directly with the foods that we will eventually consume you literally have the country’s health and well being in your hands. I ate dinner at a Mexican restaurant last night and I realized how great a role the Mexican plays in my life. From harvesting, to delivery, to preparation, up to serving my table there were Mexican hands on my food. I guess I am really lucky that Mexicans dig DALLASPENN dot COM.

slaver

I didn’t wind up here by accident and I wasn’t kidnapped and shuttled to America. I was betrayed by someone that I thought would respect my freedom, because the color of his skin was the same as mine. White and Black is a purely fictional concept. That is the biggest fallacy that people have to deal with now. Wasn’t the African that sold my azz to the European traders at Goree Island also a Black man? You need to stop thinking that someone holds your values simply because they look like someone in your family. You can’t even get along with everyone in your family. I am not going to tell you to embrace any other folks just yet because there is still a system of privilege and supremacy firmly in place that other people have to openly recognize in order to dismantle.

Don’t hold your breath waiting on that either because the fear of being a neggar or worse, being captured by the boogeyman seems to be enough to keep everyone in their place. Just don’t let the world around you stop you from creating your own reality. Check for people that share your value system because that is where your community exists and it may mean getting to know a few Mexicans and a white or two.

Posted in Black Bullshit, Jig Lit Review, Social Upheaval | 2 Comments »

Good Night, Sweet Prince (2006 B.W.A. Nominee)

August 27th, 2006

Editor’s note: A year ago on this day my dad passed away. The letter below was sent to my friends because I felt guilty about my relationship with my dad. He put in a lot of work to get me to this point in my life and I wish that I could have been there for him at the moment that he needed me the most. Although I had repaired the strain that my teenage years put on that bond we had it can never make up for lost time. If you have a family member or a friend that you truly love please take a minute today to tell them that you love them. Do that for my dad and me.

I have some sad news to relay to you all. My dad died yesterday morning. He passed away due to a massive coronary failure and this was a shock to the immediate family since he has had no history of heart problems. I am more likely to have a heart attack than he was. He had been in the hospital recently for a pancreas condition but there was no inkling that he was having any heart issues since his EKG and blood pressure tests both appeared normal. On tuesday morning as he prepared himself for work he felt chest pains. He continued with his prep until about an hour or so later when he realized that he needed some help. He phoned the ambulance service and he was rushed to the hospital. Inside the hospital as he has undergoing treatment his heart stopped and the doctors could not revive him.

I am sad for his passing, but what compounds this feeling of sadness is the fact that I have never been one to accept the responsibility that is usually reserved for an eldest child. I did not have any concerns for anyone other than myself and I lived my life without the cognizance that there was someone else that was watching me and heavily influenced by my actions. I spent time in and out of jail and other troubles and everytime that I needed someone to bail me out he was always there. He certainly didn’t have to be because he wasn’t my father, and one day I told him so to his face.

CLARENCE PENN married my mom after meeting her at NYU night school. She had divorced my father, DALLAS ELLIS, two years after I was born because of his habitual drug use and his physical abuse. Mr.PENN knew that my mom had me and he accepted the responsibility of being my father. He worked hard to put me through prep schools and provide the experiences for me that would help me excel in life. In my teenage years I began to resent him because I felt that he was too demanding of me. I left my parents house at 17 after being thrown out of Brooklyn Technical High School and quitting the work-study program at City-As-School.

I spent the next ten years in a virtual detente with my father. Not speaking more than a hello and not offering more than a good bye. Even though we used my mother as a conduit for communication, we never shared a conversation. When I needed money for college because I refused to take any loans, he would send me a check for tuition through my mother. This situation may have have continued up to his death but when I was 27 he gave me a phone call.

My dad asked me to help him out with my kid brother who was falling prey to the same demons that attack most of us middle-class Black kids. The peer pressure to affirm your Blackness through criminality. Its sometimes as if our skin color doesn’t satisfy that confirmation, so then we must go into the world and perpetuate a stereotype. That my dad turned to me at this moment was a profound revelation. He could have called on so many other people that were close to him, but that he came to me for help was so humbling to me. Ten years prior I had broken his heart to the core, but here he was before me on bended knee asking for my assistance.

All I can say to you is that from that point forward I learned more about brotherhood, fatherhood and manhood than in the 28 years prior. One thing for certain is that getting someone pregnant is the most miniscule part of fatherhood. There is a value system and a dedication to principles and community. Then there is an unconditional love for family and friends. Unconditional love requires the courage and heart of a lion. This is probably why I took it for granted that Mr.PENN’s heart could last forever. I owe my father now more than I can ever repay him and that is the saddest part of his passing.

I thank you all for allowing me this moment to cry on your shoulders and for lending my family your prayers and your support.

Posted in T.O.N.Y., When I Reminisce... | 6 Comments »

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