I'm sorry. I wasn't aware that we black people ran out of real problems and only had mock outrage to deal out over a bunch of girly-girls in Southern Antebellum Era, fantasy-fetish colored hoop skirts and stupid wide brim, ruffled bonnets.
Entries in rants (17)
This week in real life "Snob News" I took dear Mama Snob to see "Cadillac Records." Despite her disdain for all profanity (and the fact that she hadn't seen a film in a theater since "Harlem Nights" back in 1989), she wanted to see the film because she is a fan of the blues, hardcore.
Mama Snob spent much of my formative years teaching and torturing my sisters and myself with blues music. Everything from Muddy Waters and Howlin' Wolf (who's doppelgangers were in the film) to B.B. King, Bobby "Blue" Bland, Johnnie Taylor (who is actually R&B if you ask my mother), ZZ Hill, Denise LaSalle and Koko Taylor. Some of it I grew to love. Others I still can't stand to this very day. (I truly do not want to pitch a wang-dang-doodle all night long. Or put on my "wig hat," as LaSalle suggests on one ditty.) But watching the film and, most notably, Beyonce Knowles' portrayal of Etta James reminded me of what separates great art from great pop art.
In the film, Beyonce is playing Etta James, a woman with a distinct, passionate voice that hits you emotionally to your core. Some of her songs are joyous. Some are gospel. Some are blues. All hit with an undercurrent of suffering.
Beyonce is a perfected R&B/Pop princess with a pristine, over-worked voice who can kill stylistically, but has never moved me emotionally. Basically, her acrobatics are amazing, but she could also be the T-888 of pop singers.
She has been successful in moving me to the dance floor. That's been a capability of hers since I was in college and someone would throw on "Bills, Bills, Bills." She's the queen of the "all-sass, all-the-time, independent/strong black woman" song. The "I'm so awesome and don't need your tired ass" song, that -- as I've mentioned before -- is more science fiction than reality in relationships. Yeah, sometimes you get to wave it in a guy's face and sing "if you liked it then you should have put a ring on it," but most of the time it's just you, drunk, at home, watching "Mo' Betta Blues" for the millionth time wondering why-oh-why won't Denzel Washington come to your house and beg you to save his life?
Did I ever stand in your way, Denzel? Did I ever try to stop you from doing what you wanted to do!?! The only reason you're here is because you can't play anymore!
As I watched Beyonce emote her way through the film (and she tried to emote her little ass off), there was something not quite right. Knowles admitted that she really had to dig deep as an actor because of Etta's anger and inner turmoil, (Etta had it rough and really, really liked liquor and smack, etc., etc.) At the end of the day, she came up with a convincing facsimile of suffering, but I never, for the life of me, believed in that suffering.
It's not that I don't think Beyonce has inner drama. Everyone does. Everyone has doubt and failings and pain. My argument is that Beyonce does not want you to know of this drama, any real drama, that is. She's closely guarded with an even more tightly guarded image. She is more about being the fantasy of what she thinks you want her to be (cue "Sasha Fierce!") rather than revealing anything of character.
In "Cadillac Records," Adrian Brody's character, Leonard Cohen, argues with Beyonce's James' lack of emotion in her initial takes of the song "All I Could Do Was Cry." He makes the point that the song is about a woman watching another woman marry the man she loves. James' digs deep and finds that pain, albeit it's not about being dumped by a long-lost love. A scene later you learn about her being the neglected, bastard child of a white man.
Beyonce does good work with the scene, as she does with her few scenes in the movie (the film rushes in so many huge personalities that no one seems to get any justice as a character, including Etta James). But the scene underscores the point that it really doesn't matter when the song is about pain. The pain has to be real for the song to have meaning. And that's what separates someone with a wonderful voice who makes an outstanding pop artist from a true artist.
A true artist brings the pain.
I don't have to convince you that original Fugee's member, musical genius and lost child, Lauryn Hill has issues. We all know, homegirl has issues. But often, when I wanted to think of a modern song, like Etta James' classic "I'd Rather Go Blind" or Issac Hayes' cover of "Walk On By" that makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry, I think of Hill's "Ex-Factor."
"Ex-Factor," on its face, can be taken as a brilliant love unrequited/love denied ballad, but it doesn't stop there. As Hill explores deeper and deeper into the song and lays out her blueprint of pain, it becomes very apparent that this song doesn't have to be about a crappy boyfriend or a wayward husband or a married man who won't leave his wife for you. By the end of the song it is a plea for undying love, the kind you're supposed to get from the first man to ever love you -- your father. And once you cross that threshold suddenly the song is about abandonment -- by anyone. Did your mother abandon you? You may cry while listening to "Ex-Factor." Did you grow up and age out of the child welfare system? You may cry while listening to "Ex-Factor." Were you abused as a child? You may cry while listening to "Ex-Factor." Did you spend 35 years as a housewife, raising five kids to find out that your husband has another woman and another five kids, secretly, on the other side of the country? Cry! Ex-Factor is for you.
Hell, you don't even have to be a woman to cry during Ex-Factor. Just be from the land of broken toys. Be the neglected. Be the rejected. Once you get to the end where Hill pleads, "you said you'd be there for me" over and over she could be singing Pslams for all I know, wondering where is God and why He abandoned her. That's how universal, yet specific, her vocal pain is.
And what does Knowles have? "If I Were A Boy?" a song, I HATE WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING. It's a nice enough song. But it's not particularly deep or painful. It basically entails that if Knowles were a man all she'd do is drink and hang out with guys without question. The video doesn't hit any harder, which didn't seem to relate to gender politics at all if you ask any guy whoever had a girlfriend cheat on him with a co-worker. It also resonates if you're a man who has been routinely emasculated by the woman you love. (BB once sang how he gave you seven children and now you want to send them back!) These things are pretty common place. If anything, I thought the video was about gender equity among cheaters.
Women! We can cheat too! Except, we always have! So never mind!
And, gee. I think Gwen Stefani and the rest of No Doubt addressed this issue better on "Just A Girl" back in 1995. Or Leslie Gore on "You Don't Own Me" in 1964. Or hey, how about less than two years ago, by Ciara, on a track called "Like A Boy," a song I actually enjoyed despite it being a blatant Aaliyah rip-off, down to the baggy pants, hair weave and wonderful pop n' lock routine. At least on the somewhat gimmicky, but fun single it was about being angry that the rules of sex and sexuality were different for men and women. Both Ciara's and Beyonce's songs tread similar gender role themes (staying out all night, turning off your phone, etc.) But Beyonce's "If I Were A Boy" is a sappy, whiny "This Used to Be My Playground"-esque ballad about pseudo-feminism.
Ciara is doing her best Leslie Gore of, "how would you like it if I did it to you, huh? You wouldn't like that would you! We totally aren't going to prom now!"
And it's not like Ciara has a catalog of pain to draw back on (that I know of). But she makes it work. Largely because it's a revenge fantasy, not about how awesome Ciara is and that she could do that to a guy, but that she WISHES she could do that to a guy. Never once does she say, "Screw this. I'm converting to being an ass."
And I'm not a big fan of Mary J. Blige, but I call feel the capillaries bursting on every one of her tracks. When she sang that she couldn't be without you, I believed she could not be without that person. Same went for "No More Drama," another song which makes me cry despite my best efforts, because, in the end, you are responding to her raw emotion, her appeal to wanting to leave a tumultuous life behind and be the person she wants to be.
Some people say Beyonce wants greatness, hence why she chases those who already have it (see James, Etta). I can't blame her. A lot of us do. This would also explain why at the last few of Grammy Awards she sang with Tina Turner and Prince as if their true measure of pain and "fierce" would rub off by osmosis. She's obviously a hard worker, but no amount of hard work can fake pain. When Prince sang "When Doves Cry" you may not have known what the song was about in 1984. Maybe you still don't. But you know he's broken up over something. A woman. His parents. God. Himself. Ultimately, for me, the song is about obsession. But, sex, Jesus or obsession are good fallback explanations for nearly every Prince song.
Turner is the same way. She didn't even write "What's Love Got to Do With It," yet the emotions, the sound, the pain were all Tina's. No amount of wonderful song writing can create that.
I'm not saying Beyonce needs to get in a dysfunctional relationship, be abandoned by her family, pick up a drug habit (or several drug habits), become completely disillusioned by fame and moved to the islands, become a conflicted Christian who went pop or go nutbar on me but the great ones give up some pain. There's really no way around it. Without the pain, you're just a more charming Mariah Carey who can actually dance. Or worse, Janet Jackson with better vocals.
Both Mariah and Janet have outstanding pop careers. And if you want to be a wealthy, beloved, popular singer, you're on their heels of catching and surpassing them in sales and accolades. But Whitney, the trainwreck everyone roots for, you will not. Beyonce Knowles can't convince me she knows the blues. It's her only real flaw as a performer. Her kryptonite. But she shouldn't feel bad. It's a pretty common flaw among pop singers. Usher can kiss Dead James Brown's ass all he wants. He'll still sound like someone said "just push play."
Hell hath no fury like a Letterman scorned. Maybe it's just me, but I think Dave might be taking this a tad personal.
So I'm going to sob to someone who cares.
Why does life suck? Why can't it be wild and sexy like your hair? Or as soulful and passionate as your acting? Or dark and smooth like your obsidian skin? Instead it looks like Larry David in an afro wig.
With Homey D. Clown's nose.
C'est la vie. Come closer to my imagination, Leon, so you and TJ Holmes can feed me grapes by the pool of NOT FUCKING ST. LOUIS!
Ignorance, take me away!
Dude, I swear, if I have to hear a person say "experience" or "change" again I'm going to start killing super delegates until people will stop parroting what they're favorite candidates say. It's like the whole world swallowed a script of talking points. Just once, I wish that when some one jabs a mic in a person's face or hooks one up to a fellow for a live chat I wish the chatter could articulate their interest in their candidate of choice by not barfing up the word that candidate says the most.
I know that's asking a lot. But everyone's starting to sound like the cringe-worthy people in that really crappy Ron Paul ad that was released pre-Iowa.
So this is the plan of attack, eh? If you can't get the man, take on the movement ...
From Crooks and Liars:
The backlash against “Obama-mania” has really begun in earnest in the last week or so. Last night on CNN’s The Situation Room, Carol Costello treated viewers to a Fox News-like presentation of more recent examples ...
L.A. Times columnist Joel Stein is cited, calling it “Obamaphilia. Then two of the very serious people sect have their opinions presented, Conservative columnist David Brooks in the NY Times, through his alter-ego Dr. Retail:
Meanwhile, Obama’s people are so taken with their messiah that soon they’ll be selling flowers at airports and arranging mass weddings. There’s a “Yes We Can” video floating around YouTube in which a bunch of celebrities like Scarlett Johansson and the guy from the Black Eyed Peas are singing the words to an Obama speech in escalating states of righteousness and ecstasy. If that video doesn’t creep out normal working-class voters, then nothing will.
Now I'll admit, sometimes I'm taken aback at the exuberance of some Obama supporters. But I'm a prude with a patrician facade. I rarely show public exuberance over anything, but this cult chit-chatter is reeking with the stench of Ann Coulterish hyperbole. Did anyone accuse the Republican Party of creating a cult of personality over their Savior of Conservatism, Ronald Wilson Reagan? Every Republican debate this year and last turned into a "Reagan off," where each opponent invoked the name of Ronnie over and over again like they were hot with the Holy Ghost. They all disgustingly groveled, flailed about with convulsions, routinely paying fealty to the legacy of Reagan. Ululating their tongues whilst arguing who could loudest sing his praises.
As much as Democrats revere John F. Kennedy and Franklin Delano Roosevelt nary is constantly tossing out their names left and right fighting over who is the heir apparent to the house of the New Deal and Camelot. The closest you get is a blessing. Some colorful, flowery praise and some applause. But no one dares to compare themselves to the icons out loud.
On the GOPer side, the dick-measuring contest over who was the biggest Reagonite got so ridiculous that when John McCain became the front-runner and there was that surge of outcry among the pious pew of the Grand Ol' Party that I half expected the church-nicks to dig him up and try to run the Gipper's reanimated corpse against him.
Seriously? A cult? Are they kidding?
Strangely enough, Papa Snob, a wise old sage, predicted this very early on. He reminded me how during Jesse Jackson's first run for president in '84, (As it was when Rev. King was still alive in the 1960s) -- Black men who can give a rapturous, sermon-like speech scare the good sense out of certain white people no matter how anodyne the message. Obama is a bright guy and good politician, but he's crafted himself into one the most rapturous, charismatic speakers. He can't help it if McCain's putrid speech game is as charming as three-day-old turd. Obama can't help it that he's so appealing.
Cult of personality. That's the best they can do? Was that what they came up with?
When people cried when they saw Michael Jackson in the 1980s ... When millions mourned the death of Pope John Paul II ... When Ronald Reagan invoked the 11th commandment, "thou shalt not speak ill of another Republican," and the Republicans held dear to that mantra until 2008 when the shit officially hit the fan ... When folks get excited about seeing the man who may be the first black president, representing the ascension of a point that began at the nadir of human suffering, a people in bondage, entering this country through the servant's door as chattel, forced into a cycle of servitude passed on to their children and their children's children, and so on ... To see a people who started out cleaning the massa's house to possibly being in the White House?
You can't call it a cult just because people stop to notice. You can't call it a cult when they turn their heads around. Folks are going to take notice. You can't blame the people for their slacken, gaped jaws, for their disbelieving stares.
They've never seen this before.
"This wretched situation was again aggravated by the galling of the chains, which now became insupportable, and the filth of the necessary tubs [toilets] into which the children often fell and were almost suffocated. The shrieks of the women and the groans of the dying rendered the whole a scene of horror almost inconceivable."--Olaudah Equiano, from The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano or Gustavus Vassa the African (London, 1789). (From American Abolitionist)
It was a long way from Goree Island's Door of No Return to the zenith of the world stage.
Those glassy eyes ever adoring do not belong to a cult of personality. I never once confused Michael Jackson with Jesus Christ no matter how much I loved "Thriller." I've thrilled at Prince's guitar ripping up "Beautiful Ones," but I didn't think him God. I merely felt God's touch through his art. And those people of every color, creed, class and stripe crying and in throws over Obama are that way because they believe they're witnessing history. They celebrate because they can't wait for the day when George W. Bush exits stage right, trying to keep doorknob of the White House from hitting him in the ass on the way out. They cry out for a revolution because they need one more than they've ever needed one before.
If you don't get it, you don't get it. But don't hate. After all, my Republican, ever devout Christian brothers and sisters, what would our dear Reagan ... I mean Jesus do?
Seriously. I mean it. They are idiots. I listened to CNN and MSNBC (and occasionally FOX) kvetch about Tuesday nights Obama v. Clinton, rumble in the Granite State action yesterday where they all pretended to live in this vacuum where everything they said about Clinton and Obama pre-Iowa no longer existed or mattered.
I heard people explaining Hillary's win and the lopsidedness of the poles as Clinton gaining "sympathy" votes for her NOTcrying at a New Hampshire event. People floated the Bradley Effect around, that notion that white voters will tell pollsters they'll vote for a black candidate, but then not vote for them once they get in a booth. Maybe, but even that rational is lacking, especially since Barack isn't running on a civil rights platform. Some suggested it was a "girl power" factor, which made me cringe. Others said it was because Obama was resting on his laurels from his Iowa win, which also sound crazy since neither him nor Hillary nor anyone who had a chance at winning New Hampshire had any sleep in five days. (I recall Mike Huckabee being the only candidate mentioning getting a nap in.) I was worried that between Obama, Mitt Romney, John McCain, Bill Clinton and Hillary someone was just going to flat black out and take out a podium.
I feel like these pundits/reporters, some of whom were understandably a tad blinded by the Obama win in Iowa, forgot all the research, all the fund raising, all the work by both the Obama and Clinton campaigns and all the things they said pre-Obama winning the Iowa caucus. That A) there is little difference between Hillary and Barack's actual political platforms, hence voters are basing their decisions on the on different factors, like temperament, history, favoritism, niche issues and the like AND B) the Iowa caucus is NOT a straight up and down vote. It involves people casting their votes face to face with other voters, discussing their votes, then arm twisting people who's candidates didn't meant the 15 percent "viability" threshold to join their sides. The pundits pre-caucus results pointed out that for most voters for Kucinich, Dodd, Biden and Richardson were strongly leaning towards Obama as a second choice. Kucinich even straight up told his supporters if they didn't meet the 15 percent viability threshold at their precinct to swing over to the Obama camp. So we've got a system where in all likelihood Obama cleaned up as the second choice of the fringe candidate's supporters.
But do ANY of the pundits remember that? Do any of them remember that even as Obama's incredible win was coming in on MSNBC Chris Matthews and Keith Olbermann tossed around the notion that without that secondary vote Obama would have still won, but by a much narrower margin, like how Hillary just won New Hampshire by a narrow margin?
But no one! No one remembers what actually happened in Iowa! No one remembers the facts! What the hizzell, people! This was, is and has always been a close race. I too basked in the after glow of history being made last week, but I woke up and smelled the reality and reminded myself that this is going to be the most batshit presidential campaign ever and Obama, Hillary and the gang were going to have to run the gauntlet in ways no candidate has had to run the gauntlet before.
So I just irritates me that these pundits, these pollsters and these alleged journalists, who watch the presidential race with one part no sleep and two parts crazy obsessive, who get so caught up in the minutia that they can no longer see the big picture. Where they say things that make it sound like they think all voters are morons. Anyone who voted for Hillary because she NOTcried at an event, anyone who voted for Obama because he's "hip," is a tragically weak and poorly informed voter. I'm not saying that some people didn't do this, but I'm saying those people are the minority. People vote for a candidate either based on the issues that candidate represents OR they want to vote against an opposing candidate who they think will make things worse. That's it. That's the basis of voting. So Obama and Hillary took their show, money and supporters to New Hampshire, made the best case they could to the voters and worked their asses off to get people to the poles and the people did come in droves.
I'm just sick of these fake "events" the press keeps trying to ram down our throats. Report on some fucking issues. I do not CARE if an exasperated Bill Clinton said he couldn't make his wife younger and male. I do not CARE that Hilary said it "hurts" her feelings when people insinuate that she is not likable. Nixon almost beat Kennedy in 1960 and Nixon was EXTREMELY less likable than the younger and handsome Kennedy. And frankly if it weren't for some voter shenanigans by Mayor Richard Daley of Chicago, Kennedy might not have won.
My point is, these things are not issues. And I have my own mixed feelings regarding the Clintons, but I seriously wish these morons would stop covering every burp and fart coming out of that campaign like its Monicagate all over again. It's a disservice to the other candidates running, because the more time they WASTE on the non-story of Hillary's voice getting a little shakey for two seconds we're missing out on meaningful coverage on the other candidates who, I don't know, might be actually doing stuff.
So I'm blowing the whistle and throwing the flag on this play. Flagrant Clinton Pimping on the news media. Don't make me have to start throwing people out of game. And yes, Chris Matthews, you schadenfruede-loving, hater of Hillary to the point of insanity, I am talking about you. If you mention, with venom, Bill Clinton's 1992 "comeback kid" gambit ONE MORE TIME, or accuse Hilary of losing her marbles for one voice crackle while Mitt Romney has blubbered not once, not twice, but THRICE, on television nonetheless, you're getting a one-way ticket to the bench. Enough with the double standard where everything Hillary Clinton does gets put under the microscope why everyone else gets a pass. If she got anything resembling a "sympathy vote," dude, it was partially your fault.
Even though I'm pro-Obama I seriously don't want want anyone to go easy on him because it is assured that if he becomes the Democratic nominee the Republicans will NOT go easy on him. If Republican supporters would whip out Willy Horton, spread rumors that John McCain fathered "black" child out of wedlock, "Swift Boat" John Kerry, push for the presidential impeachment of Bill Clinton over perjury charges in a shoddy sexual harassment case propped up by partisan supports who dumped the female plaintiff the minute Clinton wasn't president anymore, who would insinuate miscegenation in a TV ad against Tennessee senatorial nominee Harold Ford Jr., make up illusions of hoards of"welfare queens" and "race hustling poverty pimps," dude, does anyone think they're going to got after Obama with kid gloves? And Republicans and their partisan supporters did all this while working from positions of strength in many cases. Right now their backs are against the wall and the in-fighting between that three headed hydra of religious conservatives, ex-libertarians and neo-cons who make up the party are threatening to tear them apart. Heck, last night on "The Daily Show," former Bush speech writer and author David Frum called Mike Huckabee a "suicide pill" while discussing the fractures in the party.
They are not going to roll over for any Democrat. They are going to fight to the last man standing.
And as much as I don't like them, that's what they should do dammit.
That's just the nature of Democracy. There are winners and losers. And the winners don't like losing. And the losers swear that someday "the south shall rise again." If we didn't have the system of free elections and following the Constitution as the rule of law, we'd be Lebanon on a good day. Iraq on a bad one. I do not, repeat, DO NOT want the Democrats to start doing whack-a-mole on Obama or start manufacturing fictions about his life, but it's for everyone's benefit that all the candidates get the run through so the voters can make the best decisions. We cannot have a coronation. His record has to be examined and if there's stuff that needs to come out, better now than after the nomination. And the media really needs to stop reading tea leaves and do their jobs and REPORT ... ON ... THE ... ISSUES!
That's all. I just had to vent. And now I feel better.
And I don't always agree with CNN Lou Dobbs, apparently we agree on the news media's shoddy job at covering this election. Mind you, he's part of that same news media, screaming about "Communist" China when the country's current political religion is "money" and is nominally Communist but, well, this is Lou Dobbs.
You know what you're getting into.
Typically, the word snob has such a negative connotation. Giving off the air of arrogance and self-entitlement that you're perhaps used to experiencing virtually through drunken rich white girls on the PCH mowing down the paps. But I don't operate in that tax bracket, skin tone or weight class, so my snobbery is not about that.
No, no ... my snobbery is a much, much different thing. I am a member of W.E.B. DuBois' "talented tenth (if you don't know about it google that shit up. I don't have the time right now to tell you). I have sat on the sidelines watching things people turn like maladjusted, disease-ridden tricks into giant vat of "good Lord, HELL NO!" I thought I could hold it in a few years back when it was Omarosa breaking multiple protocols of while BIP - "black in public." But then it became 50 Cent. Then Katrina happened. And BET. MY GOD! B F-ING ET! When one day it straight up morphed into a softcore porn channel, a naked minstrel show sans the blackface (although I suppose bold, dangerous indifference could stand in for the caked on black shoe polish.)
OJ. The word "crunk." Don Imus and Michael Richards thinking screaming the n-word was a punchline. The devolution of Flava Flav. Half of America's prison population being black when we only make up 12 percent of the population. "Bling Bling" being used by white journalists on television. Having both Aaron McGruder and Dave Chappelle remove themselves from the respective geniuses that they created (one because he was exhausted. The other because he was exhausted and questioned if he was helping the cause of black folks as his humor could be easily manipulated by those who despise those with permanent tans that you can't spray on and don't fade with the coming of cloudy days.) And seriously, what am I supposed to read for my comics Aaron? Candorville? What about ME! What about the kids?
And now Michael Vick. On top of it all, I had to return home to St. Louis, simultaneously one of the coolest and most racially sodomized places in North America just above the Mason-Dixon line.
And that's just the race stuff. I haven't even touched my hatred for crocs, strechy black gauchos that show every dimple of fat and the Tyra Banks Show. (Tyra, I love. Her as a talk show host, she just lost me on the fat suit episode where she had the fatties consoling her. You wore a fat suit for five minutes, they're fat everyday. Suck it up, woman!) My disdain for grown men who still live as children. For women who blame everyone for their problems but themselves. The entire slate of Democrats and Republicans running for president. Reality Television. Rupert Murdoch's bid for world domination. The price of gas. Fellow St. Louisian (Florissant native!) Kimora Lee Simmons repeatedly referring to herself as fat on her infantile show on the Style Network. I mean, I'll still watch the crap, because I kind of love her tacky, black-Korean-Japanese, 6'4" psychotic, "fiercely fabulous" Florissant, Mo ass. And no one does tacky like blacks and Asians, and whoa, she's both so she's got crazy tacky in spades.
The fact that saggy jeans are still going strong after nearly 15 years makes me wanna holler. Throw up both my hands. If I didn't think it was hot to see your underwear in 1992 when I was 14 I most certainly won't find it anymore attractive now.
Belts, my brothers! Start a revolution. Dress like you know that the definition of underwear is that you wear it under your damn clothes.
And Taye Diggs. DAMN, I hate Taye Diggs. I don't know why. I just do.
I just can't take it anymore! I think the thing that officially drove me to the realization that I had to become a snob was when I was at Barnes n' Noble and there was a fellow with one of those damn Blue Tooth doo-dads in his ear; those gaudy things that make you look like an extra from "Star Trek." And they were talking, loud as hell and like a fool, I looked to see who he was talking to, thinking perhaps he was directing his raised volume at me. Of course, he was only talking to the little man in his Sci-Fi ear. And that was enough.
If you hate ignorance. If you hate how people are ignorant of black history, American history, world hisotyr and can't find China on a map.
This blog is for you.
And if you hate how the music industry hijacked hip hop once they realized controversy could turn a profit, especially if it was manufactured in the form of a bullet-ridden corpse. If you hate how people are so willing to sell vulgarity, violent, vitriol and vice to just so they can go drench themselves in a rain of shimmering blood diamonds and proclaim themselves soldiers, pimps, kings or gangstas when they've never served in the military, never peddled flesh, do not have a royal birth right and to paraphrase De La Soul, when it comes to being gangsta "the only Italians they knew was Icee."
This blogs is for you.
Together, we will get some relief. I will vent. You will comment. You will vent. I will comment. We're going to get through this together.
My topics are politics, music, celebrity, fashion, TV/Film, trends, gender, dating/marital/family, being single in the internet era, the war(s), current events, race (all of 'em, not just us self-absorbed Negroes and Caucasians) and mental health issues. Also, as a Libra, I'm a sucker for beauty. So, don't be shocked if I luck up on a good day and decide to wax poetic on the latest gift from heaven that has come down to burn us all in a pleasureful inferno of desire and envy.
And I'll try to update with some degree of frequency, but ... work with me ... I'm a bipolar, agitated, bitter insomniac. So ... we'll just see what we can see, shall we?