Jackson G. Tickle Enterprises Presents…Panama’s Propositions

[***This post is long. Like Panama-length long. I'm dropping k-nowledge that many people might find useful. I'm trying to save you motherfuckers money. Do the k-nowledge and read. ***]

For the past 9 months now, I’ve been managing a nightclub in DC. It’s a pretty well-known spot and we hold all types of events. We’ve had Erykah Badu hosting a party and have had 9th Wonder (of Little Brother, Mary J. Blige, Jay-Z production fame) spinning on the 1′s and 2′s. We’ve held court for The Roots crew and had ?uestlove spinning old school classics. We’ve done concerts and happy hours. Cornel West has been there as has Malcolm Jamal-Warner. Dick Gregory randomly strolled by one day. We’ve hosted First Fridays. We’ve hosted fundraiser gala’s.

Basically, we’re all purpose like a motherfucker. For as many successful events as I’ve seen happen at our club, I’ve witnessed a million terrible events. And by terrible I mean, nobody shows up…period. Bad planning. Just an all around fuckfest of an event. In fact, we often joke about the worst parties we’ve had. The running joke–and I’m not sure how it started–between me and one of the owners is that whenever a bad party happens, “it’s another Panama party”. Me no know.

I know that there are are a lot of burgeoning event planners and party promoters out there who think that they can throw parties and just know that they’d be good at it.

Yeah. Okay.

Before you put all of your money where my hand is, let me explain to you how to throw a bad party. People often times tell you what you need to throw the party to end all parties. Fuck that. Let me explain to you the mindstate that goes into throwing a bad party. Follow me.

10 WAYS TO THROW A SHITTY PARTY AND HEAR THE OWNER SAY, “FUCK YOU, PAY ME”

1) Think that just because you’ve throw a few successful house parties, you can step up into the big leagues.

Methinks that this is where everything goes wrong for most people. You see, house parties, though they involve planning, are just that. House parties. You don’t need nearly as many people to fill a house as you do to fill a club. Folks don’t pay a cover. Further, you can tell people to bring bottles of liquor and most will comply. You need a marginal sound system. Basically, the ONLY think you need for a house party is really the house and some speakers. And some red cups. You can tell people to bring liquor but the least you can do is get the Solo cups. And do you know what luxury you have by throwing a house party? No cost…well, aside from the potential damage that may occur during said houseparty. But really, if you know enough broke people…ya know, the motherfuckers who DON’T feel like getting dressed up and paying for the luxury of seeing people that they don’t know, you can throw successful houseparties once a month or more than that if you throw one party where major shit went down that keeps people talking.

Hell, people LIKE house parties because they’re low maintenance and low budget. It’s the “I have shit else to do” alternative to sitting at home scratching your balls and being a loser on a Friday night.

2) Think that your friends are going to support you in all of your endeavors in life.

Hmm…yeah. No. If you think that just because you’re throwing a party your friends will come out and be your source of support you are sadly mistaken. Unless you are known for throwing the banging ass house parties (see 1) a solid 10 percent maybe of all the friends you invite are going to come to your party and PAY to get in to said party. Let’s just be real here. Friends feel like they should get friend priveleges. They want that $Free.99 hookup. Problem is, maybe the owner is getting a cut of the door and he’s going to be very careful about you letting in everybody unless it’s outlined upfront. Shit…I fuckin’ MANAGE a nightclub and do you know how many people I know who’ve ONLY been there for shit like my birthday?! And they’d get in free. Just because you’re doing it doesn’t mean that anybody is coming. That Field of Dreams shit? For birds and white people.

And to piggyback on #2…

3) Think that everybody who says they’re coming…is coming.

Most promoters use the half-half metric. This means that if they get 300 RSVPs, they expect maybe half will show up. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been in meetings with promoters who tell me, “yeah man, it’s looking great, I have like 1000 RSVPs!” Day of the party and 30 people show up. I’m not sure why this little facet of life eludes people but read this very carefully:

IT TAKES NOTHING TO RSVP TO AN EVENT. Hell, I can’t go to shit because I work on every Friday and Saturday night but do you know I RSVP for damn near every event that comes my way…AND I KNOW I CAN’T EVEN GO! Everybody RSVP’s for shit like free guestlists so that they can cover all of their options SHOULD THEY decide to actually go out.

Word to the wise, don’t be a dolt…any motherfucker can RSVP.

4) Think you can do it by yourself.

Look, the only things in life that ALWAYS works out okay solo are masturbating and first-degree murder. Word to OJ Simpson. Everything else helps to have a partner or somebody to help cover the bases. This is the catch-22 that most solo promoters get themselves caught up in. Sure, if you’re night is a success, you reap all the reward. But if it doesn’t? You lose dunny. You stay losing too because unless you got major dolo, you probably weren’t expecting to have to come off of $3,000 dollars to cover the bar minimum that you didn’t reach.

Here’s a little knowledge for you folks thinking about joining the wonderful world of club promotion. It’s a business. Wait…y’all must didn’t hear that Tribe Called Quest shit…

IT’S A BUSINESS. You and the owner agree to terms that are going to be beneficial for you both, but moreso for the owner. You’re getting a bar miminum. For the uninitiated, that means you will have an agreed upon amount that the bar must meet in order for you to basically walk out of the club breaking even. This also supposes that the owner is not taking anything off of what you charge at the door.

Many club owners want some of the door and want the bar. Promoters want the door and some of the bar. You see how that can get muddled?

So say you have a party on a Friday night with a bar minimum of $5,000 (which is cheap actually, I mean it is Friday), and you’re charging $20 at the door. Well, if 100 people show up, that $5000 is a pretty hard number to reach because everybody has to spend: what class??!?!

$50 bucks! Yeah, that ain’t happening. Consider that women are cheap bastards and also that folks do not want to blow $50 bucks on drinks AFTER they just blew $20 at the door.

And if the party is wack, folks will leave early. Sure they’re mad that they paid $20, but chances are you said folks would get in free before 11pm or something ANYWAY to get them there. Effectively, you’ve made NOTHING at this point. With 100 people you’re lucky if your bar does $2,000. So say it does. And say 50 of those 100 paid to get in.

What you’ve effectively done is made $1,000 at the door and the bar did $2,000. And let’s say the owners benevolent and doesn’t take anything from the door. Chance are you paid at least $1,000 up-front to reserve the party since owners ain’t stupid. They want some cash (or credit card) as a deposit…and it’s non-refundable. If you meet your minimum, you get it back. So you have a $5,000 minimum, you made $2,000 at the bar so you owe $3,000. Well, you put down a $1000 deposit, so now you owe $2,000.

My guess is that you AREN’T going to ante up that $1,000 you made at the door though its the smart thing to do. So you’re in the whole 2 stacks. Solo. All by yourself.

You don’t want that. Believe you me. You might be doing well in life, but coming off of 2 stacks solo because your party flopped is not a good look.

Promoting is a team sport unless owners all just like you and let your party happen without consequence. But umm…Roseanne ass chance there bucko.

5) Think that just because you’re nice you can be a good promoter.

Fact is, everybody ain’t a promoter. Just because you like talking to people doesn’t mean you can be a good promoter. You know why? All nice people ain’t sales people. Promotion is sales. You have to effectively convince people to come to your party and spend their money on your vision. Why should anybody come to your party and spend their money to make you money? Especially if you have no resume, so to speak. I’ve met people who’ve convinced themselves that they’re promoters and their parties always suck. Always. Nobody comes. And you know who notices that nobody comes?

Club owners. They do not like not making money. It is not a good look. Your party will get Republic Gardened (RIP). And the manager, me, will come and shut shit down early much to your disdain but guess who won’t give a shit?

Me. The manager. If it doesn’t make dollars, it doesn’t make sense. People don’t realize that when you open club doors, you start out losing money in wages. All the people that come to work HAVE to be paid whether anybody comes to your shit or not.

6) Think that you don’t have to spend a lot of time ACTUALLY promoting.

Promoting sucks. You have to get flyers and meet people all the time. It’s tiresome. Once you’ve been in the game long enough where word-of-mouth carries then you’re straight. You can just send out emails and people will come because you have a track record. But until that point, you’re ass is a campaigning fool. You have to hit the streets gathering emails and making nice with women and babies. You can’t just assume that folks will show up to your even because you got some place to open the doors. Basically, you AREN’T Marc Barnes. Promoting is hard work. Not only that, you have to convince owners to let you throw parties at their place. And if you’re Black and cater to a Black crowd…well, that can take some major convincing.

7) Think that some people wouldn’t rather sit at home reading a book than come out to your party.

This is more of a niche market thing. If you’re target audience is the urban professional crowd. Know that some of these people, namely the women, won’t mind sitting at home reading a book or watching Lifetime instead of coming out to your party. People who read ALWAYS have options. They can go out for drinks early and go home and be comfortable at home and not have to worry about some overly-aggressive behemoth palming their asses because he IS one of those folks who will spend $50 bucks at the bar (or a couple thousand because he’s a baller…and an idiot). Pretty simple there.

8 ) Think that because you threw ONE good party that all of your parties will be good.

I’ve seen this one with my own two eyes a few times. Circumstances created a party that wasn’t into the party of the year. There is a term for this occurrence:

fluke.

Flukes do happen and it’s probably best to operate under the auspices of recognizing that flukes do happen. When your party erupts into something way bigger than you expected, be happy and bask in the success. Do not however, think that it gives you leverage and come to people with an attitude of, “I think my track record speaks for itself.”

It doesn’t speak. In fact, it’s mute. Your track record was a fluke and you will get yourself in trouble because owners want to make money and might bank on a fluke. Thing is, YOU are left holding the financial bag. And we’ll be more than happy to add bags to you.

Realize that people come to the club of their choice because they felt it was their best option on that particular night, not because they like you. In a major city, those options can change instantly.

One good party does not another good party make.

9) Think that spending all your money on a big-name (or pseudo big-name) DJ is going to bring out the people.

A great DJ of national fame will always bring out people. Thing is, those people have proven track records of rocking parties…pretty erroneously. Somebody had to get those people INTO those venues at some point to GET those DJ’s to national prominence. Another thing to remember is this, much like HDTV’s, all DJ’s are going to play the same shit anyway. Unless, of course, you’re going for a totally different type of party. You don’t get a DJ who specializes in Afro-beat if what you want is Souljaboy. They’re all playing the same songs. On a good night, folks will say, “MAN…who WAS that DJ?!?! He was rocking.” On a regular party night, folks will just dance and enjoy themselves.

Of course, you NEVER want folks to say, “who the FUCK was that whack ass DJ?! He played ‘Hello Eireen’ between Souljaboy and Richboy.”

*cough?uestlovecough*

10) Think that because you ARE somebody, you can’t throw terrible parties.

Being humble in this business is a must because even Love has bad nights. Even the dudes with the biggest followings can have off nights. It happens to everybody. Once you go thinking that you’re such-n-such and that your name alone brings people out, you get a wack night where nobody shows up and a slight melee ensues between you and security and the manager and the owner causing little dudes to break up fights in the middle of the dance floor.

****

These are all things to consider when thinking of throwing a party. It’s way easier than you think to catch a brick on a party…even if you are somebody.

Before you get ready to throw your next party at any club and end up owing the club $5,000, read these rules and think.

Just think…

…we’ll be more than happy to take your money.

Don’t be so quick to give it all up.

When I thought about bringing the question of Jodeci’s best song to the masses (and boy did I, but I’ll get there), I didn’t realize I was asking people to choose between Martin and Malcolm.

Hell, I didn’t realize I was asking who’s the greatest: Jay-Z, Biggie, or Nas (and Tupac, ya know, just because)?

Shucks, who knew that asking a large group of Black people (and some white and Latino people) what Jodeci’s best song was would essentially be the most difficult decision of our lives? To hell with the President, that’s easy. AIDS: to know or not to know? Well, duh…take the test dummy. You say you have to be at work tomorrow at 7am but you’d REALLY like to take make that booty call because it’s been a few months since you’ve had some but the sex wasn’t that great but mediocre sex is better than no sex, so should you make the call? No brainer…of course.

But Jodeci? I feel like I asked people to smack their mothers with rusty barnacles and a box of Hi-Liters…the orange ones.

In fact, to illustrate just how hard a question this was (you can read some of the comments from yesterday) here are some text messages I received:

“Lately…all day. My 2nd choice is Freekn”

Wait 2 seconds…text from the same person:

“I changed my mind, I want to go with Feenin”

Sheesh…and that was the first text I received in response to my question. So what was to follow?

“who is jodeci?” ~ I told her that if she wasn’t joking we could never get married…amazing how quickly she provided me a response.

“I always liked Feenin…but the Freeknu Remix was good also. To tell you the truth, I can’t choose…there are a lot that I like” ~ sounds about consistent with what I’d heard and more tame too; one of my friend’s called me Satan for making her have to do this type of heavy thinking at work…she’s a systems engineer.

“Hmm…how much time do I have?” ~ Apparently this isn’t a snap decision type of question. True and honest thought must be used to determine the answer. If only black people could be this focused and careful in every other decision. Shoot, that could have saved us from D4L at the very least.

“i don’t want them to get back together, but the first song that pops into my head is ‘forever my lady’ but i think i like ‘luv u for life’ more…actually, just shoot me now because I can’t decide.” ~ That wasn’t a text, that was actually a conversation I had with a chick while I was standing in line at Quizno’s. I figured that since she was young and Black she’d probably have an opinion. She did. And no I didn’t try to holler at her; she ordered some kind of weird sandwich. Eww.

“that’s like asking to pick ur favorite child! I won’t do it! Damn u…lol! I’m still waiting remix” ~ Now you see what happened there? Psychoanalytically, she went through four stages: Indecisive to outright defiance to reluctant deference to acceptance. I mean she’s still wrong. Hmm, is it a problem if when she said that I was like, they had a remix for “I’m Still Waiting”?

I asked one of my friends if she thought this was the most difficult question in the Black community to which she texted back:

“lol yo it just might be. When have you ever known xxx to not have an answer. And those last 2 votes? The niggas literally burst into song as an answer.” ~ When was the last time anybody answered a question about Martin Luther King, Jr with an excerpt from his “I Have A Dream” speech? Hmmm?? Hmmm??

You get the point here. Obviously I was a little bit cavalier in how light I took this question and situation. And to complicate matters even further…

…I asked people at the line to get into the club last night. I specifically stayed at the door for a while just to ask. And do you know why this is a problem? Because I had do an impromptu performance of a good 8 of Jodeci’s songs as one patron was trying to decide and she needed to hear them.

So I sang them, which caused other people to start singing their songs. Yeah so, we started a mini-concert outside for a little while. Except none of us can sing. But a crackhead did show up, so it felt more like K-Ci was there in spirit at least. Oh, Devante too. He’s clearly on that shit.

Then, to make it even worse, I had the DJ play the “Come and Talk To Me (Remix)” in the club (though he didn’t actually play it until a rather attractive young lady accompanied me to the DJ booth demanding that it be played since she thinks its the best Jodeci song). The host for the evening went around asking people if it was the best Jodeci song which was followed up the the “Freek NU (Remix)” which just shut shit down. That damn Jodeci, man they made great music.

Sidenote: Have you ever saw, developed a crush and then lost the same crush all in the course of a night? That happened to me last night. I met this chick who I’d apparently seen at least a gazillion times and I caught the biggest crush on her. She’s hot, smiles, and just seems like a genuinely nice person. Then I found out she was engaged. I totally lost the crush. Shit was over just as soon as it started. She’s still hot though…jeez Louise is she hot.

So now we get to decision time…according to the over 250 people that were polled via text message, personal interview, and Internet means, what is the best Jodeci song?

*drumroll*

“Come And Talk To Me (Original)” was voted the best song with the majority of about 35 votes.

However, my personal pick “Freek NU” was a VERY close second with around 33 votes, followed by “Forever My Lady” (27 votes), “Feenin’” (25), “Love You For Life” (21), “Stay” (20), “Come And Talk To Me (Remix)” (20), “Cry For You” -which is my second choice for best song- had (19).

Everything else had 15 votes or less, to include: “Stay”, “My Heart Belongs To You”, Freek NU (Remix)”, “U and I”, “What About Us?”, “Lately” and “I’m Still Waiting (Original and Remix)”

I’d like to thank and apologize to everybody for all of the grief I put them through by asking people to pick the best Jodeci song. I’m sure that quite a few side conversations were spawned because of this out in the real world. Heck, a few people actually came up to me in the club wanting to change their prior answer.

The only thing this proves to me is that there really is no best Jodeci song. There was no clear winner and damn near 12 songs were name-checked by people which only leads me to believe that Jodeci’s catalog is just that good. They’re all great songs. Hell most people couldn’t actually just name even one song. It was always, well I think “this” and “that” are the best songs.

Bottom line, Jodeci is that shit and Boyz II Men can’t touch them.

Yeah, I said it…who the f**k want what??!?!!!!

Oh, and my friend’s choice was “Forever My Lady” or “Stay” so technically…I won. She will disagree. And because she’s a woman, she will be right.

I think I’ve figured out this whole man vs. woman thing.

[***Make sure you continue voting in both the Janet Jackson and Halle Berry brackest in the October Madness 2006 tournament here and over at The Royal Youngs. ***]

Over the past few months, newspapers and magazines have been informing the world that enrollment at HBCU’s has been declining rapidly since the 70s and 80s. Some question the usefulness of these Black bastions of higher education, if not altogether claiming that the education is second rate.

I poo-poo on both of those assertions.

For the unitiated, HBCU stands for “historically black college and/or university”. You may know it as a Black school or college. There are somewhere in the neighborhood of just over 100 currently enrolling students today. The most well-known HBCU’s would be Morehouse College, Spelman College, Howard University and a bevy of others mostly down South to include Florida Agricultural and Mechanical University (FAMU), Southern University, etc. As an added bonus, allow me to provide you the definition I wrote back in 2004 and a snippet of a post I’d written about HBCU’s:

HBCU(acronym). noun. def.-college generally located in southern region of United States (though can be found in Southwest, Northeast, and Carribean if you think about…they all black down thurr) without: air conditioned dorms, up to date computer systems, computer labs, computers, large pockets of white people, large pockets of black teachers, proper security, helpful administration, quick service, good service, graduating students, students, etc.

And:

“…really, I loved my school and advertise for them all the time…all the BS they put me through made me a better person and caused me to grow up. Without a doubt, it was the best 4 years of my life and I recommend the HBCU experience to anybody, especially specific schools to which I hold a little bit of bias towards. The relationships I built will last forever. But there definitely are some things that need addressing. Pronto…”

Everybody that’s gone to an HBCU has experienced some major issue that could have caused cardiac arrest from the revokation of scholarships (over and over), the lack of housing, or just other random non-sense, mostly administration based. And for those reasons some people think that some HBCU’s need to close.

I’m of a different train of thought. You see, I not only think HBCU’s are necessary, but I’d wager that the education received at an HBCU (in its entirety) is better than the education received at any major or Ivy league institution.

Yeah, I said it.

Fuck Harvard. Morehouse trumps all. And for the record, I attended a major-state, nationally reknowned university for graduate school, so I’m very well versed in both circles.

But Panama, how could you possibly think that the education you receive at Texas Southern University is better than UT-Austin? That makes no sense at all.

I’m gonna learn ya. And you know, this goes for white people too. I’m not saying that white people should overrun our beloved HBCU’s, but I think the education they’d get would trump the education at these other schools as well. Let’s get educated, shall we? Yes, let’s.

1) In short, I know more Black people than you do if you went to a white school.

This cannot be stressed enough. I have a vast network of ninjas at my disposal at all times…and further, ninjas that can read. A lot of people I know that went to white schools graduate and move to some new city where they have to meet all the professional Black people unless they move back home. It’s usually easier if you’re in a fraternity or sorority, but what if you aren’t? Who wants to join the Urban League strictly to meet new people of color? Not I says the sexxy one. Lucky for me, I don’t have too. I know them all and can find them anywhere like Creative Source.

Speaking of networking, a lot of people make a big deal about the registration woes every semester. Well, I tend to see it like this…

2) Registration is the best networking event of a year at an HBCU.

So let me get this right. If you go to a white school, you don’t even have to show up until the day of school and you’re more than likely registered? When I was at Morehouse, we stood in line for hours. And you know what happens when you stand in line for hours? You meet beaucoup people. If you can’t network there, you can’t network anywhere. There’s no reason NOT to meet people since you’re going to spend all day with them anyway. Friendships are forged, life stories are told. It’s like the a social mixer for reading ninjas. Hell, folks pay $20 to get into a club to meet folks. Imagine paying $10,000 a year JUST to stand in line to go to class. And if you went to the right HBCU, you could be standing in line to the heir to a multi-million dollar industry or the son of a world famous entertainer…or just a ninja who has the hook up on pre-release CD’s or knows who to call when your car gets booted.

No registration, no free CD’s!

3) You learn about real responsibility.

Hmm…how do I explain this one. I lost my scholarship three times while I was at Morehouse. Sophomore, Junior, and Senior year. I was placed on academic probation once. Mind you, none of this was actually my fault. I never received a grade lower than a B the whole time I was there***. But the administration simply lost my shit. As in, lost my scholarship papers and lost some of my grades. So what does a young Black male who’s about to lose his potential livelihood do? He whips out the scholarship papers that he carries with him EVERYWHERE and shows them to the Dean, who promptly pressed a button on the computer and problem solved.

I learned to keep EVERY piece of paper I received with official letterhead on it. I still have a note from a professor that says “hi” on it just in case she tries to say she never said “hi” to me. If that isn’t responsibility, I don’t know what is. Though it has caused problems for me later. For instance, I keep every one of my bills, causing an overabundance of paper taking up space in my home. But if they try to say I didn’t pay a bill in 1999, I got their asses!

***Okay, that’s not entirely true. I got a D+ one semester in my Differential Equations class, but in my defense, I had the second highest grade in the class. The teacher damn near flunked everybody AND I wasn’t even a Math major, I was just taking it because I’m a nerd. To counter that D+, I ALSO managed to get two A+’s and an A in my other classes that semester. Try explaining that shit to your parents in a way that makes any sense.

4) You might not think so, but I got a real taste of diversity training.

People think that being at an HBCU is a lot like being at a white school in terms of just being around a whole bunch of people of the same race. If ever there was a bad assumption. The class divide lives on at HBCU’s. On my dorm hall alone were at least 3 children of millionaires. In fact, I didn’t even know I was poor until I got to college. But here’s the thing, being Black means I already know how to deal with white people in some regard. I mean, if we want to eat, live, and work in America, you have to be able to deal with white people. So that was in the books. I learned how to deal with folks who had money or were well-connected in society, etc.

I’m inclined to believe that white people don’t really get that at these schools. Mostly because they don’t have to. I went to school with some of the most naive, ignorant white people this side of the Mississippi who’s fascination with us ninjas amazed me. It’s easy at a white school to not really deal with any of the Black or minority students, mostly since it seems like everybody cliques up…which is how you get assholes throwing “gangster” parties which turn into parties where folks just mock Black culture. And it usually doesn’t matter since white people run the world anyway.

But slow down. Did you read the lastest story on the American population in TIME? I hate to say it white folks, but the Mexican’s are coming. We (Black and Brown) might not get along that well right now, but at least we have a common foe: white people. You better get used to speaking to Tyrone and Pablo now, because pretty soon we’ll be all over.

5) Homecoming

Yeah, I know every college has homecoming. But nuh uh Jack, not like a Black school. Our shit is like our fraternities and sororitites, they last a lifetime. Homecoming at my big white school kind of sucked ass. Hell, I didn’t even realize it was homecoming until the actual gamedays. At an HBCU??? It’s a weeklong event, and even longer if you count the time it takes to detox and recuperate. I just got back from my homecoming and I’m still not caught up on sleep.

And once again, being as I know more Black people than you, I get to spend a week around a bunch of reading ninjas who will be doing something with their lives at some point…and very rarely does anybody get shot.

Just think about that shit for a minute.

Plus, when was the last time a rapper shouted out a major white school? Howard gets shouted out all the time. That automatically makes it better, even rappers pay attention to HBCU’s. And show up at homecoming.

7) There are some dorms without air conditioning…that are in the Deep South.

If that isn’t a focus on healthy living (you lose weight when you sweat it all out), I don’t know what is.

HBCU’s are usually in or near big enough cities.

The world is your oyster and the city is your backyard. This way you don’t HAVE to just drink yourself to death for entertainment purposes. Nope, you can actually learn some shit and then go party since you won’t be too drunk to read all day. Being in a big city fosters real life education as well. You will more than likely be robbed at least once because you will go out sporting your college paraphanalia…and you deserve to be robbed. It’s a means of humbling people.

And what the world needs now is more humility. Word life.

9) The women are just plain finer at HBCU’s than at other schools.

No, that doesn’t really make for a better education but it does make for a better quality of life…which (aha!) does make for a better education. If you feel better, you’re more inclined to be happier and it’s easier to enjoy subject matter when you’re happy. That is science and cannot be disputed. Word to George Bush. You know that in my classes where women were present, most of us dudes were on our P’s and Q’s. And don’t let it be a fine woman. Good gracious would we be focused. It’s just not a good look to come across stupid in front of a fine woman because even if she’s a cokehead, she’s still fine and you’d probably like to see her naked.

In essence, finer women cause men to step up their game which bodes well later on in life for women so they don’t have to deal with so many loser dudes spitting lines like, “what’s your sign?”

That right there is life education.

And I’ve seen some “fine” women at predominantly white schools. It’s just not the same thing. I almost feel that if you are a Black man with a Black girlfriend, and you went to an HBCU and she didn’t, you cannot bring her to homecoming without having a talk with her first that goes like this:

Dude: Baby, I’m so glad you’re coming with me this year, but I need to let you know that you’re going to see some drop-dead gorgeous women, some of which I know and some of which I wanted to know. I’ll need you to know that if some random woman, or women, come and jump on me that I did not have sexual relations with that woman…I wanted too, but I didn’t.

Chick: Whatever, they can’t be that fine.

Dude: Shiiiiit, you must be smoking. There are some women so fine that Sanaa Lathan would look average. In fact…wait, you do realize that I love you and only want to be with you because if my eyes wander its just because I like their sweaters…

Eh…it might go something like that. Just know, your girl is not ready. Hell, I’m not ready every year and I went to school with fine women.

10) I just know more Black people than you do.

And that just makes me better than you. Which means my education was better than yours. I’m Black, it’s kind of important to know lots of Black people, unless of course you’re Black and afraid of other ninjas in which case you should just go die now. Thanks.

“…something ain’t right, it’s the strobelite…” - Dres of Black Sheep, “Strobelite Honey” A Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing

Has this ever happened to you?

You go to the club and meet a woman who looks like Nia Long in the club and when you see her in broad daylight she looks like the broad side of a barn? Or have you met a man in the club who looked like Brad Pitt and when you go out in a well-lit, high traffic and visible, public place, he looks like Michael Chertoff?

By the way, if you have no idea who Michael Chertoff is, you really need to read more. At least crack a newspaper or something.

If this has ever happened to you, then you have become a victim of club goggles. What are club goggles?

Club Goggles. noun. the view that one gets while in a place of hedonistic joy of an object of interest that is skewed by the lighting that might render said object of interest as being more attractive than God has intended them to be. Synonyms: beer goggles, work goggles.

Club goggles are an epidemic in this country. They are the reason that so many first dates go down in flames. You can’t be happy when you get your mind ready for filet mignon and you get steakums. Or you have your soul ready for 2 spicy chicken sandwiches from Checker’s and you get home and they’ve not only only given you one sandwich, but its a daggone fish filet sandwich…AND YOU DON’T EAT FISH.

You see, club goggles are a menace to society. Similar to O’Dog. You see club goggles show no mercy and will shoot anybody. Club goggles, just don’t give a fuck. They come in and swoop your sensibilities and parade your souped up version of a busted person before you numerous times throughout the night and then cause you to hold onto this false image until you go out on a date or something.

As an aside, I’ll bet that if we really tried, and if we took certain interpretation liberties, that we could find a way for all of the 10 commandments to be broken in the club.

Not that I’m a heathen or anything. I just know how to rack up Hell points is all.

So…

Seriously, I’ve been a victim of club goggles on more than one occasion. Luckily, my hesitation at seriously trying to holler at one of the chicks proved correct when I saw the little minion strolling the mean streets of DC a few days later and she looked like a gargoyle.

No lie. What followed was a quick laugh, a longer prayer, and me victoriously throwing my hands in the sky, pointing and saying “You da MAN!!!!”

Chuuch.

Since I’m such a nice fellow, I realize that people need to be aware that club goggles are out there lurking and that with just a little bit of thought, you can avoid waking up next to a woman who looks like Jabba The Hut. Of course, if that’s your thing, then hey, by all means, do you. Or her.

Thing is, you don’t have to be a victim. Here, I’ve comprised 3 simple rules that you can follow to ensure that the person you meet in the club is still the same person you see a few days later. Me, I don’t downward spiraling surprises. If you don’t either, then just follow along.

1. You don’t have to get the number at the spot you meet, you can wait until you have better light.

Think about it. You’re in the club. It’s dark. Your vision had to adjust to being in a dark space. You should realize that if your vision had to adjust, then potentially its adjusted to your interests face as well. Perhaps, finding a more lit part, which will uncoincidentally be better for conversation since we all like to be in the darkest parts of the club t get our inner-perv on, will enable you to actually see what in the hell you are considering adding to your cellphone.

Speaking of cellphones, fuck it, take a picture and look at it in the bathroom. Also, notice if you’re the ONLY dude trying to holler. In this case, numbers don’t lie.

According to Shakira, the hips don’t lie either, but trust me, don’t believe that shit at all.

2. Make sure you leave when she leaves so you can see her outside.

You know, this happened to me recently. I wasn’t actually trying to holler at her anyway, but inside this woman seemed so hot. Outside, she seemed so not. Seeing her outside…

…not a good look. Went from a Darkness 8 to a Lightness 6. I’m talking in under 10 minutes too. That’s the difference in bragging about what you’re bringing home to meet he parents and not even telling your boys about meeting her.

“We don’t date 6′s” 3. A.C.A.F.

It’s a simple acronym that more people should be aware of, even if just for safety reasons. Who knew it would be helpful in the club as well. You’d never believe how a simple technological innovation would be able to keep you from knocking up a busted ass woman, or sleeping with a man who looks like the ugly version of an ugly person. Which is actually possible. In fact, I know this chick from undergrad who is recognized as being quite the unattractive woman. In what can only be described as a glitch in the ugly matrix, I found the unattractive version of the busted chick.

It was a dark day. Which is funny since we’re speaking of club goggles and its usually caused due to darkened conditions in the club.

What was I talking about again? Ah yes…A.C.A.F.

Quite simple actually and will solve all your problems.

Always Carry A Flashlight.

That, mi compadres, will solve all your problems.

If you put any group of able bodied, nubile, young to “professional” (which is my catch all for not quite 30 but older than 24 and able to read and more than likely pre-marriage/family) adults of mixed gender in a room together, two conversations will undoubtedly arise: sex and relationships.

It’s written in the DNA of every newborn that around the early to mid-twenties, all of us have to discuss these things. If it’s a group of black “professionals”, then the conversation will go to how much black men suck and how there are no good black men out there causing some poor misguided male soul to utter “well that’s why we date white women” causing a ruckus and lots of hissing and if not contained properly will result in objects being thrown about leading to the ultimate demise of that one antique item that has been passed down from generation to generation in somebody’s family causing further dismay, becuase it’s an antique and shit, forcing folks to get kicked out Martin style (wzup!).

This is just my interpretation, of the situation.

And for good measure, now who else wanna fuck with Hollywood Court?

But before the melee and after the hors d’ouevres (because us young urban professionals always have hors d’ouevres, though if you come to my house it’s chips and maybe some Cheez-Its), one question always arises as well:

Can men and women truly be just friends?

Oh yes, the old platonic friends question is sure to come up at some point. Me and my boy Johnny Kwest argue about this all the time. I contend that it is possible for men and women to be just friends, even at this age. He thinks otherwise.

I use myself and my female friends as examples.

He uses me and my female friends as examples.

*scratching head*

Needless to say, I often lose these arguments. I mean, how can you really win an argument when you’re being used against yourself…and you’re your best defense???

Somebody’s going to have to re-read that a few times. It’s okay, we’ll work on colors tomorrow.

Well I’m not going to discuss whether or not men and women can be platonic friends or not. I have platonic female friends but my boy has made some very compelling arguments as to why these platonic relationships exist. Doesn’t make them any less platonic, but I do understand that a lot of these relationships exist as they do due to circumstance.

But fuck that, Panama has platonic female friends.

However, having platonic female friends SHOULD mean that all rules of overly-intimate contact and the like are in place and nothing of romantic or overly flirtatious nature SHOULD exist.

Well, I’ll be the first to tell you that, umm, very seldom is that the case. In fact, I’m probably part of a group of Platonic Friends ‘R Us that could be a considered a habitual over the line-stepper. And it’s not usually me…well not always anyway. Apparently, just because you are just-friends, doesn’t mean that flirting and playful touchyfeely is out of bounds.

Then again, it never happens with folks you don’t find attractive (if you can help it). Which begs the question, if you find somebody attractive (but aren’t necessarily attracted to them), and you are friends…does anybody hear it?

Oops…I mean, are they platonic?

And this is what I’d like to delve into. Certain behaviors, anyway. I remember when I was in elementary and middle school, we used to have the D.A.R.E. officers come through and tell us about the dangers of drug use. D.A.R.E. to keep our kids off drugs, they’d say.

Do you remember McGruff the Crime Dog? Take a bite out of crime. He must have retired, because crime is up in DC.

Well, do you also remember the Department of Transportation’s drunk driving campaign? Friends Don’t Let Friends Drive Drunk?

Well, I think we need to discuss, in the realm of platonic friends, things that friends don’t let other friends do…

AND YOU SAY HE’S JUST A FRIEND: THINGS THAT FRIENDS DON’T LET OTHER FRIENDS DO, EVEN WHILE WATCHING FRIENDS

1. Friends don’t let friends give eachother backrubs.

This has been a point of discussion for me and some friends over the past few weeks. Sides have been drawn, arguments have been made, and policy decisions have been completely disregarded. It’s like the Bush Administration all over again. Let’s be frank here, by a show of hands, how many people have ever had an innocent backrub from a person of the opposite sex, that wasn’t paid for using cash or a credit card??

*crickets*

Shit how many people would ask a “random” person that they wouldn’t think of in an impure manner, to put their hands all over their body in hopes of easing some tension or releasing some stress?

Hell, who doesn’t think of sex when they think of easing tension or releasing stress????

Skin-on-skin (basically hand to back) backrubs are purposeful. It’s just like the book, Purpose Driven Life. Backrubs? Purpose Driven Action. It’s too sensual and the back is a very sensual place. You get to rubbing and shit and who ISN’T going to get all randy? I remember a long time ago, I was talking to this chick and anytime we’d be at her home and she needed a way to say, “hey Panama, I’d like some right now…what do you think?”, she’d just ask me for a “back-rub”.

Now, if you give folks a backrub and you don’t go up under their shirt…well you’re clearly not trying to start anything and that’s “safe”.

Here’s a simple rule of thumb. If your sister/brother can’t do it, then maybe it isn’t so…”friend-friendly”.

I’m just saying, back-rubs are treading dangerous territory.

2. Friends don’t let friends kiss on the lips.

You’d THINK this would be self-explanatory. Hell, Europeans, who are all kissyface, at least kiss on the cheeks. But do you know I know some folks who consider themselves to be platonic friends actually kiss on the lips.

Platonic friends my ass.

I know you see it…I know you see it…

Lip-to-lip action, just doesn’t make any sense to me, if you’re just friends. If you get the pleasure of touching my lips, you’d probably get the pleasure of some NFL kick-off action. *wink**wink* Know what I mean??

Speaking of the NFL, Nick Saban, head coach of the Miami Dolphins, is an idiot. Thank you.

And since we’re talking about idiotic things…

3. Friends don’t let friends sleep with eachother.

Oy vey!

We can add, or touch people in their special places to that as well.

Fellas…if you EVER meet a woman who tells you she can have sex with you with no strings attached…throw something at her and run like hell. She’s lying. No matter how much she tries to convine you she can, she’s a liar.

LIAR. Only a select few women can do this, and you know what? They’ll probably have your ass sprung. Yessir, she will turn you into a woman.

I just don’t think you can be a platonic friend and sleep with your friends. It just doesn’t make sense. Sure, we all have our moments of weakness, but you have them with folks you’ve thought about in vertical terms. If you go to thinking about your friends in vertical terms, it seems counterintuitive to think that they’re actual platonic friends. Sure, you may make strides to keep the relationship platonic by going out of your way to respect the rules of space, time, and Soul Train, but in all truth…when it comes to mental sexnastics, if you think it, you will drink it.

Kool-Aid that is.

And yes, I just wanted to say that.

Do it. Do it.

Just don’t sleep with your friends, mmkay.

Live and learn. Call me Joe Public.

4. Friends don’t let friends hold eachother while sleeping.

Now this one gets tricky. I believe that a man and a woman can sleep in a bed together and not touch eachother and it be all good. Hell, I’ve done it. It’s easier than it sounds. But if one person goes all cuddling up to the other one in the middle of the night and wants to be held and shit, I’m raising a red flag. Holding and being all up under folks is a prime way for feelings to develop. And you wouldn’t just snuggle up to Ray-Ray from 18th Street, now would you? Nope, somebody you truly trust and care about…and if you truly trust and care about them and are all arm locked and wake up and look into eachother’s eyes and smile and then discuss going to the zoo to look at furry and fuzzy animals or God forbid, go feed ducks together…well, your platonicity is at stake, pimpin’.

It was written.

Besides, that cuddling shit leads to sex. See #3.

5. Friends don’t let friends hate on other love interests and relationships.

If you are truly platonic friends, you’ll be happy when your friend meets somebody new that they are really interested in.

We’ve all seen it happen. Some dynamic due of platonicity hangs tough and swears that there’s nothing going on until one of them meets somebody else. All of a sudden they can’t stop talking about how fucked up it is that things are going the way they are…then somebody throws around the, “they should have known I liked them, even though we never talked about it…”

Basically, the non-sense and bullshit starts flying like black folks with reparations checks.

If you got beef, then clearly you need to re-evaluate their place in your life. If your friend tells you that they met somebody at the mall and you automatically call her a ho, you just might not be platonic. If you meet somebody at a library, and you tell your “friend” and he calls the new dude a pussy for reading…you just might not be platonic.

If you both meet somebody new and then fight? Just might not be platonic and you probably broke rule #3.

Which means you aren’t platonic anyway, because…the bottom line is…

Friends don’t let friends break friend rules.

It was written.

Over my vast 27 years of existence, I’ve gained amazing amounts of knowledge about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I’ve learned how to tie my shoes, which has proven to be a most valuable skill as I ventured through my formative years running amok amongst the trees.

(I’m feeling poetic today.)

I learned how to type correctly in either 6 or 7th grade, a skill set, that has continued to serve me most wonderfully thus far in life since if I couldn’t really type you wouldn’t be reading this right now and I wouldn’t be Panama Jackson, the most sexxy muhfucka on the net…no, I’d be Panama…well, you don’t want to know what I’d be doing. Let’s just say it would involve some safety pins, a few spools of wire, a parking garage receipt from Bloomingdales , and an empty bottle of Cambodian breast milk.

Bad Boy…come out and play.

I’ve also learned a lot about dating. I’m of the belief that the more relationships you experience the more you learn about yourself. You learn about the things you can and cannot tolerate, your pet peeves, your interests and how your interests parlay into your significant other’s interests. Basically you gain information on what kind of person you will be most compatible with.

Now, with this knowledge of compatibility also comes knowledge to the opposite. You’d like some examples, wouldn’t you… you dastardly devils, you?

Okay. I shall share.

Things I know that I couldn’t deal with would include dating a woman with a tattoo on her neck. And how do I know this? Because I dated a woman with a tattoo on her neck. Granted, I didn’t actually know she had a tattoo on her neck when we first met because her hair was covering it. However, once it was discovered that the aforementioned women had a tattoo on her neck I just couldn’t help but to stare at it. Her tattoo was a singular letter. Now part of the problem was that the letter was not the first letter of the name she’d given me. Turns out, she had a whole extra part of her name that she didn’t tell me about, for which the tatter alluded.

Plus, I’m a bad person so you know I struggled to NOT ask questions like: “I suppose you already have job security, huh?”

Or, “You don’t really believe in shooting for the stars, do you?”

One snap decision removed most gainful employment from her repertoire. And because I’m neither a rapper nor a ballplayer I can’t date a woman with a tattoo on her neck. Plus, she might be tougher than me because Lord knows that I’m not getting a tattoo on my neck.

Umm, fuck that.

[***Sidenote: I seriously have to wonder what would make anybody get a tattoo on their neck. With all of the free skin roaming flaplessly all over the human body, why in the flying fuck would somebody stop and say, you know where I don't have a tat?...on the sensitive area between my face and my shoulders. You can always tell a nigga who's afraid of a job, because he'll have a tattoo on a place that would scare off the nice white people who employ us. Plus, you just can't put a nigga with a tat on his neck up front unless he's doing security in which case I suppose it helps to add to the "secure" illusion of "don't fuck with us, my security has a tattoo on his neck, he doesn't play. Westside beeeyotch." Further, why the fuck would any woman do that? That shit is up there with smoking and walking like a Siamese Floating Yacht as the most unsexxy things a woman can do. There is no such thing as a sexxy neck tattoo. There's also something about Mary....but who's counting. ***]

You want another example don’t you? You’re in luck because I have another one. It’s not really an example per se, but more a realization I came to the other day that led to me having these thoughts for which I’m sharing.

I realized that, I can’t date a woman who doesn’t have at least one email address that encompasses some part of her real name.

Think about that for a minute.

*marinating*

Let me back track a little and explain where this idea came from. So I’ve done a lot of writing in some very random places. Well, I always include my email address so I tend to get lots of random emails. And I read them all…and sometimes I even make the mistake of reading people’s email addresses. I’ll get a very well written email with good points and interesting views from somebody with this email address:

Lickylickysuckysucky969@yahoo.com

And yes I made that email address up, but no I’m not really exaggerating. Not to say I can’t respect the words that are written or anything, but umm…if I ever receive a religious email from ole LickyLicky up there, let’s just say I’m calling bullshit.

It’s just one of those things that makes you go, hmmmm. Any and every reading black person that I know with multiple email address has at least one with their real name incorporated into it. I have two. I have about 6 different email addresses and 2 of them use my full birth name. And do you know what that means?

It means I can get a job. You cannot apply for a job that asks for your email if it’s: Fuggmepropadaddy@yahoo.com

Well, you can apply, but you shouldn’t exactly be waiting on a response. What the hell am I going to do with a woman who can’t get employed? Sorry, but working at McDonald’s just won’t cut it in my life right now…if it’s your own fault.

If she were to aspire to work at McDonald’s because she thinks she just looks sexxy flipping burgers that’s one thing. Actually, it isn’t. I need a little less delusion in my women. In today’s day and age of technological advancement, there is just no good reason not to have a professional email address. The only reason not to is if you have no real goals for professional careerdom of any sort. Shit, I know BROKE niggas with real email addresses.

And do you know why? Because broke niggas want to make money of the real variety.

Speaking of which, but not really at all. The funniest text message I received this week came from a friend of mine in Miami: Yung Joc was sweating my goodies last night. It was NOT going down.

That’s still cracking me up.

Good times.

So from here on out, along with asking questions about baby daddy’s and prison records, fuck a phone number, I’m asking for an email address, and if it’s something like, Sexkitten365…well, actually I might email her back. But let’s just say that if after a few days of talking, I ask what her professional email address is and she says, I don’t have one, but you can just email me at Luvulongtime@whateverthefuck.com…I’ll email her alright…

…from notgonnahappen@godie.com.

Over the duration of the time that I’ve been blogging, I’ve gotten numerous requests and various questions as to why I don’t have any pictures up on my site. Or better yet, I’ve been said to lack courage (recently) for not having any pictures up and available for the masses…as if I’m hiding something.

Trust me. The kid is sexxy.

I’m not hiding shit.

I may, however, be smarter than you.

And do you know why I’d make such a bold, arrogant, and completely unnecessary statement?

Well, for one, because it’s true.

And for two, because I know good and damn well that anybody and everybody has access to anything that shows up online.

And just for kicks…I can say it because I’m sexxy.

I am what some people in the white community call, employed. Legally and gainfully. Why in the living shit would I jeopardize a paycheck that comes every two weeks, on time, by placing pictures up on a site where I skewer any and everything…to include things that may or may not be related to my job?

I don’t hear any muhfuckas asking…fuck that, requesting that I prove who I am and my sexxy, offering to front my salary for a year on the chance that some government search entity decides to accidentally mosey on over to ole JGT Headquarters and then, poof, vamoose, son of a bitch.

Fired for making inflammatory comments or some dumb shit.

My job doesn’t cause me to be in the public realm and actually frowns upon it. In Washington, when you end up online or in the news…it’s usually not a good thing. Trust me on that one.

In fact, there is a mantra espoused around here that seems to fit the point: If you don’t want to see it on the front page of the Washington Post…don’t write it down.

The reason this came up, and also why it fits into my campaign to lobby for better criminals in America is because, once again…

…people are fucking stupid.

With the advent of Facebook and MySpace, legions of young people from ages 12-30 are posting pictures, personal blog entries, hobbies, likes, dislikes, etc. all over the internet. Harmless right? Fucking wrong. Just yesterday, there was an article in the New York Times about employers who do online searches looking for the folks they are intending to hire. You know, just to see what’s out there if anything.

And do you know what these employers are finding? Dumb fuckers who write shit like, “I like to smoke weed 2 to 3 times a week while I’m sipping some Tanqueray and smacking the ass of a phat ass stripper.”

And umm, contrary to popular belief, that statement probably came from a white dude.

If I’m an employer, don’t you think that it might make me think twice about this upstanding, Harvard MBA, yada yada yada. True, those things might not have anything to do with job performance, but you know what, I’d be willing to bet that in most interviews, the things that employers look for first is character. In the hour they spend talking to you, what lies are you able to convincingly get across? Are you trustworthy? Honest? Punctual? Not likely to end up in jail for doing dumb shit?

A lot of folks might say, “well that just doesn’t seem right.” Employers shouldn’t be out there looking for that type of information on you. That’s not fair. And if you really think that…you are an idiot.

Let me just say that one mo’ ‘gain. You. Are. An. Idiot.

They are looking to pay you money to do them a service. Hell, they should be able to do any and every damn thing they want to make sure they are making a good investment. And guess what? You do the exact same shit.

What is this same shit that I’m referring to?

You google EVERYBODY.

If you meet somebody today, and they give you their name, you and all of your friends are going to google this muhfucka to see what you can find out. Hell, you’ve probably googled yourself twice this morning! You want to know what my real name pulls up on Google?

I’m either: 1) dead (as in executed in prison); 2) a graphics designer; or 3) an athlete who seemingly topped out in college.

Luckily, none of that is damning. But let somebody come across this site. Sure they’ll be entertained (hopefully), but can I really blame them for thinking twice about inviting me in for an interview? They might ask me to come do a comedy show…and then send me on my way. But, I’d rather be paid for my services, not thanked for being funny.

Hell, I remember at one of the blogger meet-up/happy hours in DC last year that the main point that everybody hit home is that, none of these pictures need to find their way online. And do you know why that was so important? Because nearly everybody that lives and works in DC has ties to the government who might not like the bloggadacious nature of what we write about. Or even more simply, most of don’t even know if we’re even “allowed” to be blogging. So why risk it? Were there pictures taken? Of course. Have you seen them?

Probably not. But back to the point.

Why wouldn’t I expect job employers to google me in today’s day and age? Or check Facebook? Or MySpace? You’re also forgetting that a lot of recruiters are young. So they KNOW what to look for. And here we go, putting all the stupidest information on ourselves out for the entire world to see, then wonder why we can’t find jobs at times.

There’s a very good reason why I had to tell somebody who had a picture of me up on MySpace, with my name and shit PROMINENTLY displayed on it to take it down. Despite not really caring for my job all that much…well, I’d like to keep it for a while.

You know, ride this paycheck thing out and see where it takes me.

And thus finds us in the times of lackluster ass criminality. If you put on your MySpace page that you like to have sex with monkeys while sipping a MaiTai with Tah-Tah in Nevada (word life), then that’s your own fault if you can’t quite seem to get any job interviews. Of course, that’s assuming that you have placed your real name and shit on the site. Which for some strange reason…SO many people have done.

I suppose it’s one thing if you keep your site clean. Nothing out of the ordinary, or nothing too provocative or incriminating. But realize that the more information you put out there, the more can be used in determining things about yourself. Granted, nearly anybody with a site or a MySpace page is slightly narcissistic and wants a piece of the limelight, but I’m sure getting busted at 2am on national news because you got caught sending messages to a 14 year old girl through MySpace is how you really want to get caught.

Nor should you be a high-ranking official in the federal government either. But that’s neither here nor there.

Better criminals. I don’t know how else to say it. If you have your name plastered all over the internet with pictures of you smoking rocks and giving head to a sailor on the good ship Lollypop, then that’s all your fault dumbass.

You are an idiot.

Just something to think about.

So the next time you ask me why I don’t have pictures up online, or why the pictures on my MySpace page don’t give you a clear shot of my face so YOU can know what I look like…it’s because nobody has offered to pay me annually for my services.

You seeing me for the 5 seconds it would take to look at my picture and say, “Okay, that’s Panama,” could potentially cost me tens of thousands of dollars in annual salary that I’m sure you wouldn’t be willing to pay me.

Just doesn’t seem fair.

And quite frankly, it ain’t worth it.

I’m a much better criminal than that.

This has been a Public Service Announcement brought to you by the Better Crime in America (BCA) Campaign. Get your fuckin’ act together before you do something stupid. Good night and good luck.

[***Thanks to everybody who sent me birthday wishes of some sort. I appreciate it. I had a great birthday and I might have to write about how not to throw a high school graduation party in the future. Trust me, it's an art form. ***]

There are a few laws or mandates that I think should have been placed in the U.S. Constitution.

For one, I think that all short men must be nice. I’ve said that before on this site, but it requires mentioning at least once a month. I pray that if I say it enough, I will speak it into existence which will make everybody’s life better since you won’t have to deal with the moral dilemma of having to stomp out a jackass midget dude because he’s talking shit and doesn’t realize that Napolean actually lost at some point.

I also think that ugly women must be nice too. It does not serve you well to already be an unattractive woman AND be an asshole. People will not feel bad about talking shit to a woman who looks like the busted version of Grace Jones.

And that’s saying something.

Ugly men should be nice too, I agree, but for some reason it always stands out more when an unattractive broad is especially personality-flawed. At that point, her only hope in life is to get knocked up and have children who will hopefully love her, except she’ll be such an ass to them because of her own problems that love won’t live there anymore. It will relocate across the street…at the crack house.

Bleak picture right? Hmm…has anybody ever realized how Memphis Bleek has really grown into his name? The nigga’s career? Bleak like shit. Talk about your self-fulfilling prophecy.

Well, in true Panamanian form, another addendum to the list of things that certain groups should be has been discovered.

And its very contrary to the others, but still an important one for a few groups of women nonetheless.

You ready?

I don’t think you are.

You think you know, but you have no idea.

Okay…

New Rule: Attractive women should be barred from taking ugly pictures. Further, attractive women need to recognize that they took ugly pictures and make strides to keep them from invading the public realm.

Reason-being: The running law is that pictures don’t lie. According to Shakira and Wyclef, neither do hips. And I like Shakira’s hips. But that’s irrelevant here. Back to the point. If a beautiful woman takes ugly pictures, can she indeed be attractive?

Think about that.

[***Sidenote: I know that we are born and stuck with the attributes we have. However, I believe that a lot of women just have no clue how to take pictures. Especially pretty but not famous chicks. It takes a certain level of confidence and narcissm to be able to maintain your flyness and/or sexxy in photograph form. Just being hot and taking a picture does not equate to a hot picture. You too can end up on Hot Ghetto Mess.com. The more you know. Ding. ***]

And what is this public realm I spoke of previously? Places like MySpace. That needs no explanation, but I’ve seen some women that I know are attractive in real life take some uberfugly pictures and place them on MySpace.

Not.

A.

Good.

Look.

But let us revisit this notion that if an “attractive” woman consistenly takes “unattractive” pictures, is she truly attractive?

My thinking is…no.

A picture by definition is a freeze frame moment. It is what you look like at that exact moment. Now say you attempt to look fly in a picture, and fail horribly. Then also say you just take a picture, candidly, no frills or anything, and you still end up looking like a daffodil. Constantly, constantly, constantly smoking trees. I’m going to be loathe to call you hot.

You know, let me just take it a step further. If you are a woman who takes consistantly bad pictures, even if 9 out of 10 men say you are…

…you cannot be a dime. To be a dime, your true beauty will transcend all. Everybody has off days. But truly beautiful women, even on their off days, look ridiculously gorgeous.

A few weeks ago, while riding with my boy in Atlanta, we drove by a chick in a Hyundai. Now we both looked into the car because we saw a chick who looked like she might be cute, and she had on a scarf. Not a headwrap…a scarf. Clearly, she was intending to go from Point A to Point B, with minimal stops in between. But you know what? That chick looked HOT in her little scarf. Me and my boy concurred that that is what you want in a woman, appearance wise. Even with scarf on and no makeup and whatnot, she still had her sexxy going.

For the record, I’m not a fan of makeup. Never have been.

I also happen to think that she might take a good picture because she was just looking like herself. If you can look good just waking up, and you take good pictures, AND you’ve been called a dime before.

You just may be a dime.

The other part of this is that many attractive women don’t know how to take good pictures. They try to take poses and shit that make them look extra fly or something. I think the problem is that not enough people practice posing. Me, I practice. You never know when you’re going to have take a model-esque picture. Then again, I also think that I’m the sexxiest muhfucka on the planet, so I’m GOING to take good pictures.

Then again, I’m not a woman. For the most part, an attractive woman can get by with taking bad pictures because they have been proclaimed attractive, which might be why they don’t put much effort into it. They’ll do asanine shit like run their fingers thru their hair in strange ways thinking that their baseline beauty will makeup for the utter fucktasticness of the pose they just provided.

If I have to explain to others that you’re really hot when they look at your pictures, well, you need to step your damn picture game up. Just because you’re in it doesn’t make it good. It makes it a picture with you in it.

And if the picture makes you look like a horse, then you should really reconsider making those pictures available.

Either that or you’re really a horse.

But it’s okay, I don’t judge.

Time you spent reading this: 5-7 minutes

Time you spent trying to figure out just what in the fuck was the point: 10-20 minutes

Time it took you to realize that it was an exercise in futility: 25 minutes

Realization that the beauty is in the randomness of the love that Panama shares with all: Priceless

Welcome back to day 2 of the Panama Extravaganza that is the journey of my life. Man, that sounds so monumental doesn’t it?

Yes, it does.

We’re going to jump right into numbers 5 through 1 of Panama’s 10 Favorite hip hop albums.

For you boho’s that missed numbers 10 thru 6, please feel free to click here.

Onto the rest…

5. Dr. Dre The Chronic (released 1992)

Where I First Heard It: There is a story behind this, but I this guy gave me this random mixtape he made back in like early 1993 and the song “Fuck With Dre Day” was on there. I remember popping in the tape on the bus on the way home. I must have rewound that tape way too many times because I ended up popping the tape ON THAT BUS RIDE home. I hated myself for a while, but he made me another copy.

Why I Love It: One of the most important part of any listening experience for me is the clarity and crispness of sound. I’m not a huge fan of gritty sounding music which is largely why I never really got into the Wu. Which means the Wu won’t show up on this list. The Chronic? One of the most beautiful sounding albums, from a technical sonic standpoint ever. It sounds as good now as it did then. There isn’t one bad song on the entire album. Even the song I like the least, “Little Ghetto Boy” knocks hard as hell. Plus it introduced us to Snoop Doggy Dogg. Even know, I’m amazed at how well put together the album is from the song sequencing to the quality of each song…hell even RBX sounds like somebody who’s album I’d buy after hearing him on this. I never did get an RBX album cuz he really did suck, but still. They don’t call this album a hip-hop classic for no reason. Plus, with the ignorance factor straight up on 10, with classic song “Bitches Ain’t Shit”, well, I was sold from day one.

Stand-Out Tracks: “Nothin’ But A G Thang”, “Bitches Ain’t Shit”, “Let Me Ride”, “Fuck With Dre Day”, “Rat-tat-tat-tat” (seriously, I play that song in my car JUST to hear the drums come in and I turn it up as loud as my car speakers can handle just to feel the impact)

The Chronic Related Story: I didn’t realize until the other day, but since middle school, I’ve been kind of able to get everything WAY earlier than everybody else music wise. I don’t know how I settled into the groove of being the guy who knows the right people to being the right guy in the first place. I get most albums a good two weeks early right now, and back in middle school, I always had stuff early. I was in Germany so we always got shit late, but I always knew the right people who would go back to the states and bring stuff back and they’d always make me tapes much like the dude did with the Chronic samples he put on the mixtape. However, there is one song I’ve been trying to find for something like 13 years now. I used to think it was by Above The Law, but I’m not sure…maybe it’s a remix to “Livin’ Like Hustlers” but the intro goes:

“four niggas up on a roof/gettin’ down just for the fuck of it/four niggas we’re on the move/nothing can stop us now…” which is clearly the rip from the Parliament Funkadelic, “One Nation” joint. If anybody can help me with that, I’ll give you my first child.

Another More Recent Chronic Related Story: I must be getting old, because I threw this CD into the car on Monday and was WAY to conscious of the profanity, even going so far as to turn the shit down at stop lights as to not offend anybody with my drug-induced, sex-crazed, profanity-laden music, which is SO not like I used to be. I wanted everybody to hear what the fuck I was listening too. I’m afraid. If I keep going at this rate (I do this with other albums too), I’ll be a Republican Right-wing Christian conservative by Christmas.

Hold me.

One Last Chronic Story: So, you know how I was getting shit early? Well, that translated into folks being somewhat impressed with my ability to memorize lyrics so quickly. I didn’t realize they didn’t know I was getting shit early. I thought everybody was. But I bought The Chronic album on the way to Italy for a week long trip with a group I was part of called Club Beyond, which was a religious based fellowship organization. Go figure. Anyway, I bought it, sans adult (federal laws my ass), and knew the words from the moment I popped it in. So many people were impressed with how quick I memorized the words, not knowing I’d had most of the album for months. See, I’ve been the sexxy choice for years. Non-sequitur? You bet your ass it is.

4. Outkast ATLiens (released 1996)

Sorry T…not Aquemini here.

“fat titties turn to teardrops as fat ass turns to flab…growing old…” - “Growing Old”

Where I First Heard It: Though I was an Outkast fan from the first time I heard “Player’s Ball” nothing prepared me for hearing “Elevators” for the first time. I was sitting in the parking lot of K-Mart while one of my boys was robbing the joint. No lie. Not with gat in hand. He had a system, but I won’t go into that. Let’s just say I’ve been an accomlice more times in life than I care to share. Trust me. But I was sitting there and the song came on the radio and I lost my mind. That shit is STILL one of the songs I love the most EVER. I kept thinking, are them niggas playing ping-pong in the studio and threw the shit onto the song. ‘Kast fan cemented FO LIFE.

Why I Love It: I know Southernplaya… is most southerner’s favorite, and Aquemini gets all the acclaim, but ATLiens is the album I love the most hand’s down. Something about this album just gets into my soul. That’s the only word I can use to describe the album, soulful. More nuanced than Goodie Mob’s Soul Food, not quite as funky as Aquemini, and less street than Southernplaya…It was right there in the middle of all of those, and in some ways I think thats why I like it, because I am in the middle of all those things. You know, especially with me being a gangsta and all. The only song I don’t really like on this album is one of the albums most popular, “Jazzy Belle.” I’ve never liked that, but I still listen to it because it just meshes so well with the album. This is also the album where we all realized Dre was about to go to the moon, and he didn’t disappoint. He was on some next level shit here and I think I was probably going through my own growing finding phase and shit so it worked. Plus, I don’t know about your city, but this nigga Dre had EVERYBODY rockin’ them little old woman hair hats/turbins. That my friends, is influence.

Stand-Out Tracks: “Elevators”, “Babylon”, “Two Dope Boys In A Cadillac”, “ATLiens”, “Decatur Psalm”, “Mainstream”, “Growing Old”

ATLiens Related Story: For the longest time, this was the longest running debate between me and one of my boys Johnny Kwest, about which album was better, Southernplaya or ATLiens. We ultimately ended up just realizing that we would agree to disagree probably after a few years. I also think that is the point where I realized that me and this particular friend almost NEVER agree on songs or albums, but love all the same artists. It never fails. If I love a song on an album, he won’t like it as much, and vice versa. That’s how you know somebody is your boy, when you can tell them straight up every song they’ll like or album they’ll like from jump.

Also, that K-Mart that got robbed, well, let’s just say that our system included store employees. We were thorough.

Now, we’re getting to the cream of the crop. Are you experienced?

3. Jay-Z Reasonable Doubt (released 1996)

Where I First Heard It: I remember when this album came out, but I didn’t actually hear until like a year later when I was at my sister’s apartment in Atlanta and she threw on “Can I Live”. And since I LOVE that Isaac Hayes sample so much, I was stuck. Then I started listening and was amazed at how well he was putting his puns and shit together. Im like, yo, dude is tight. My sister quickly turned to me and said the black national confirmation statement, “I tried to told ya.” My sister is going to come into this later because as far as rap goes, she’s really how I got into most of it. And she unknowingly put me onto the most important discovery of my life.

Why I Love It: Because there are only two songs that I don’t like on this album, one of which I don’t even really count as an album cut, “Ain’t No Nigga”. That is a throwaway “we need a single” track. Jay’s lyrical wizadry was on full display on this album. He’s still as witty and lyrical, but nowhere near like he was on this album. Smart business man that he is, he figured out how to make his flow equal dollars, and that wasn’t the Reasonable Doubt flow. Jay has so many one liners on this album, and this was before he started quoting Big in his rhymes. On the song “Brooklyn’s Finest”, good God, them two went at it . I just love the production, the wordplay, the wittiness, the raw discussions of the good life. Hell, he still has me convinced that in 1996, he was still spending money from 88…what! This is one of the most played albums in my entire CD collection. And it travels with me everywhere.

Stand-Out Tracks: “Dead Presidents”, “Can I Live”, “Feelin’ It”, “Coming of Age”, “Bring It On”, “Can’t Knock The Hustle”

Reasonable Doubt Storty: Though I give my sister credit for introducing me to Jay, that isn’t the whole truth. In high school, my boy Johnny Kwest (who is also the same dude I’ve been arguing about Outkast first two albums with for years) couldn’t quit talking about Jay Z. He’s been a fan since day one, for real. In our AP Calculus class, everyday this dude would tell me I needed to check for Jay and specifically “Politics As Usual”. That was his favorite song for a straight year, it seemed. I never did listen to the album during our senior year in high school and it was probably because my boy JK wouldn’t stop talking about it. Little did I know he was right. And to continue in our disagreement, Reasonable Doubt is my favorite, The Blueprint is his favorite, and we argue about that too. ALWAYS.

Just to add some backstory here, me and JK went to the same high school and pretty much had all of the same classes together in senior year because we were 2 of the 3 black students in all the AP classes, from Physics to Calculus to English. And we’ve been discussing, arguing, dissecting music since. I’m talking almost 10 years strong at this point. In fact, I’d say one of the strongest elements of bonding amongst all my boys is all of our sometimes obsessive love for music. It continued through Morehouse (we both went there and roomed together for almost the duration of our “matriculation”

2. NWA EFIL4ZAGGIN (released 1991)

Where I First Heard It: So remember my sister put me onto Jay? Well, she unknowingly put me onto NWA as well. I used to sneak into her room and steal all of her tapes, make a copy, and then sneak them back in. I got quite good at it too. But one day, I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to hear. I put in the tape, and all the cussing and murdering and raping and I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I got so scared that my mom was going to come in and beat my ass that I turned it down AS low as I could, closed my door, and fell in love with this album. I was like 12 and for a straight year, took this album with me everywhere, until The Chronic came out. And you know how that one went.

Why I Love It: To be quite honest, because it’s one of the most ignorantly constructed albums in history. But it’s also one of the most entertaining albums ever. People claim that Straight Outta Compton is a classic, and it is, but for three songs. Most people can’t even name another song off of that album outside of “Gangsta, Gangsta”, “Fuck Da Police,” and “Straight Outta Compton.” The production that Dre is known for now, started on EFIL4ZAGGIN. That is where he came into his own. The beats are so hot on this album you can’t help but to like them. And despite the utter impossibility of the lyrics, MC Ren stood out as one hell of a rapper. There is humor in the skits as well. Why they have a Motherfuckers Against Drunk Driving skit where they tell you to smoke weed instead is beyond me, especially since we now know you can run over little girls on bikes in busy intersections at fast food restaurants. This albums flows so well from the beginning and even underneath all of the violence and mayhem, does carry somewhat of a message, even if it does get lost. But hands down, this is, in my opinion, one of the best hip hop albums EVER. And I will stand by that. And it’s almost easy to get past the violence because most of it seems so ridiculously over the top, as opposed to on their first album where Cube dealt more with reality. Hell, on this album, Ren is talking about killilng millions of people. Yeah…right. Thing is, there ain’t even much drug talk on this album, it’s just murder and rape and overall female devaluation…and yes that’s ignorant and not exactly to be aspired too, but man, they made it sound so harmonious. Like I said, ignorance is my oyster. It’s as sonically sound as The Chronic, but way more entertaining. It is, a masterpiece.

Stand-Out Tracks: “Alwayz Into Something”, “Real Niggaz”, “Appetite For Destruction”, “She Swallowed It”, “Automobile”

EFIL4ZAGGIN Trivia: I remember when Life After Death came out and folks were so enthralled by Biggie’s singing on the song “Playa Hata”. Well, Eazy-E and them started that shit (maybe Biz did actually, but that’s neither here nor there). On this album, the song “Automobile” is NWA just singing their asses off about what they’d do with a chick in their automobiles. It’s a full 4 minutes song. You really should hear this song, it’s that bad, but its that funny. Me and my boy Tre, used to make up our own versions in high school.

NWA Related Story: I don’t know if I conveyd it properly uptop, but I was deathly afraid of my parents finding out I was listening to this album. I loved it so much, but I love my life more. My parents were pretty liberal on things and would often buy me albums with explicit lyrics (well, my dad would), but something about this album told me I was clearly crossing the line. Which always made me wonder…how in the FUCK did my sister get away with listening to all of the shit she was listening too? She put me onto 2 Live Crew, DJ Jimi, NWA, Ice T, and basically any hot new shit from the USA that one of her friends would bring back for her to listen too. She is also responsible for my first exposure to a porno flick. I walked in while her friends were watching one and they couldn’t kick me out because me and my other sister threatened to tell. We were 6. Talk about positive role models. I probably got exposed to everything my parents wanted to keep from me through her. See, that is how a sister is supposed to be, making sure you know the rest of the shit your parents ain’t telling you. I love my sister.

And finally, my favorite album of all time:

1. De La Soul de la soul is dead (released 1991)

Where I First Heard It: On a bus trip somewhere, I think to Holiday Park or something, some field trip in 6th grade. A young lady friend of mine (this was in Germany by the way), had this tape that one of her cousins from the U.S. sent her. She let me listen to it and I liked it so much, I had to get my own copy. I think this came out in like May of 1991 so it was probably the last field trip of 6th grade. I sat next to her the whole trip. I think she caught a crush on me that day and I think I liked her too because she let me listen to her De La Soul tape for the whole day.

Why I Love It: Have you ever heard an album that you just have to listen to the whole way through? That is this album for me. I can’t skip around on it. It is one of two albums I will listen to straight through the entire way, with the other being #2. Even today, I marvel at Prince Paul’s production and how well he helped them put this album together. It goes from party songs to serious songs and is woven together perfectly with a skit of some kids listening and trying to determine how good it is, ultimately coming up with the notion that de la soul is dead, since their first album was so good, but this one was not. It’s a full fledged concept album taking on critics and all of the backlash they caught for just making happy music and their success with 3 Feet High and Rising. And they succeeded in their attempts. It had the uber popular, “A Roller Skating Jam Named Saturday”, but that isn’t even the best song on the album. And I honestly can’t think of a best song, I like the whole thing. I just enjoy this album immensely and any woman in my life must like it as well. NWA I can give a pass on, I mean its one of the least woman friendly albums ever, but this…is poetry in motion and a music masterpiece that doesn’t stray too far from the path, nor does it get limited by the bounds of happy rap. It is 4 fellows from Long Island trying to deal with success and coming up with one hell of a concept to do it. All they had to do was execute, and they exceed expectations. It’s one of the original 5 mic Source albums (back when they had credibility) and was critically acclaimed everywhere, and still is. Just didn’t sell worth a shit. Oh well, I love it.

Stand-Out Tracks: really the whole album but, “A Roller Skating Jam…”, “Pass The Peas”, “Let Me In”, “Oodles of O’s”, “Ring, Ring, Ring”

De La Soul Related Story: So I was like 11 or 12 in 6th grade. The girl who gave me the tape, ended up dating the guy who made me the mixtapes by the time we were in 8th grade. They dated for quite sometime, even taking the relationship back the U.S. with them when their parents got stationed back stateside. Well, in 1997, me and her magically found eachother in Atlanta again, through one of my sisters I think, and started dating. She was my first girlfriend in college as a matter of fact. I give credit to De La Soul for bringing us together. She also managed get “reacquainted” with the dude who made me the mixtapes while were dating of which she told me some 2 years later. She ALSO tried to holler at my boy JK to try to piss me off while we were in college. She also showed up at my house unannounced one day to tell me she was married and seemed VERY upset that I was happy for her recent marriage.

So you see, music can bring people together, tear people apart, and ultimately piss people off. It can also create the smallest circle of ridiculousness ever. Thank you De La Soul, for making so many great memories me and my friends can laugh at today.

Just like music…

By the way, this was a lot harder than you might thing. This may have been the most difficult thing I’ve done in my life, next to learning how to walk.

Do you remember the first time you saw your first crush in life? Well I don’t. I don’t remember a lot of “firsts” in my life. In fact, for the most part, the most prominent firsts I remember in my life are the first time I heard certain albums or songs, etc.

You know, I have never really taken the time to think about how prominent a role music has played in my life until a few days ago. I guess since I grew up around so much music, between my dad and my real mother, that I never took the time to realize just how important it has been. I’m the guy who always has to have music playing be it in the car, or on a star, by the bay, or Ashenkashay, I do not like green eggs and ham…I’m Panama bitch.

But I digress.

I even need to hear music in order to concentrate. I can’t focus unless I have music playing in the background. I can’t sleep with music playing because I’ll just listen to it and not go to sleep. Though a few weeks ago, I did falll asleep while listening to De La Soul’s Stakes Is High album, but I’ll just assume that’s because I was tired and not because I think it sucks. Which I do.

And I’m a huge De La Soul fan.

All that to say that I’m going to list my 10 favorite hip-hop albums and explain why they are favorites and where I was when I first heard the album. These albums helped me become the music and rap lover that I am. There is only one album for which I can’t remember hearing it the first time and deeply troubles me. Oh well…fuck it. As usual, I’ll probably throw a few pesronal anecdotes in the middle.

And for you graduates out there, antidotes save people, anecdotes are stories.

Laugh now, but somebody doesn’t know what it means.

I was going to try to go in descending order, but truthfully, the only one’s that matter in order are numbers 1 and 2 for me. Everything else is just number 3. And I’d recommend all of these albums.

And since this is going to be long, I”m gonna do 10-6 today and 5-1 tomorrow.

Panama Jackson Presents Albums That Changed My Life (At Least for 10 Seconds)

10. DJ Quik Safe + Sound (released 1995)

Where I First Heard It: During the summer at my mother’s house in West Bumblefuck, Michigan I’d often just spend hours listening to WJLB out of Detroit since birdcalling and throwing rocks got old really quickly. It was the main hiphop station and anybody from Detroit is familiar with it. Well, I heard the title track “Safe + Sound” and I knew I just had to have it.

Why I Love It: Anybody who knows me is aware that DJ Quik is my favorite rapper/producer from Cali. Hell, he had me wanting to be from Compton. Aside from the shitty ass “Justify My Thug” from Jay-Z’s The Black Album, I haven’t really not liked anything he’s done, and I blame Jay for picking that shit, not Quik for making it. From the very first time I heard “Sweet Black Pussy” off the Quik Is The Name album (I can also very vividly remember where I was the first time I heard that song), I was a fan. I was also 11. This album is the mos thugged out musical masterpiece I’ve ever heard. Quik had become way more of a musician by this album ( a trait that has probably cost him some fans over the years), and amidst his humor and violence and profanity (I love me some good ignorance) and all of the Blood related shit he was talking, I was sold. The album is just funky. Plus, I swear we have the same sense of humor.

Stand-Out Tracks: “Safe + Sound”, “This Is For The Hoe In You”, “Dollaz ‘N Sense”

Quick DJ Quik-Related Story: Not sure anybody remembers AMG from the early ’90s or not. But he used to run with DJ Quik. Anyway, he had the seminal classic song “Bitch Betta Have My Money”. I remember in like 91 or 92, I was on a bus trip to Holland (I was living in Germany then) and me and my friend decided to count all of the curse words in that song. I think we counted well over 200. Well, somebody told on us and we got jacked for my tape. The teacher took the tape and gave a copy of it to our parents. Let’s just say…I got my ass…BUSTED.

9. Blackalicious Nia (released 2000)

Where I First Heard It: At the University of Maryland’s Adele H. Stamp Student Center in the bookstore at one of their listening stations in July of 2000. My life changed that day. It instantly became a favorite album of mine.

Why I Love It: Well for one, I just love the group name Blackalicious. That sounds like some shit I’d come up with. For two, it’s just a well produced and executed album. They’re from non-LA California and they have a sort of Native Tongues feel to them. The producer Chief Xcel put his foot into the beats and Gift of Gab, the lyricist, is one of my favorites. He has about a good million or so flows over the course of this album. It’s not an album full of violence, bitches, or drugs. It’s a thinking man’s album, so to speak, except it doesn’t come off corny or preachy, unlike their last album which I think sucks more ass than Janet Jacme. It’s not an album for everybody as I know lots of folks who pretty much don’t like them in the slightest, but it’s a classic to me. Even HipHopSite gave it a classic rating (which is why I thought to listen to the album in the first place). I just really love this group and especially this album. I’ll check for anything they do just because of it.

Stand-Out Tracks: “Shallow Days”, “A to G”, “Sleep”

Blackalicious Related Trivia: A lot of people probably think they’ve never heard of Blackalicious or heard any songs by them. Not true. If you’re a black person, you’ve seen Brown Sugar and at least three of their songs are very prominently displayed in that movie. 1) When Taye Diggs gets out of the cab that Mos Def is driving and he starts walking and looking at the kids playing in the park and reminisces about the “good old days” the song “Make You Feel That Way” is playing; 2) At the housewarming/engagement/whatever party Sanaa Lathan was having where Boris proposed, the song playing in the background is “It’s Going Down”; and 3) The song that begins playing when Taye Diggs and Mos Def get to Hot 97 as he finally asks her out is “Day One”. All three songs are on the Blazing Arrow album, which is criminally overlooked as a great album. That last song took me a good month to remember what album that song was on since they play the part the version sans lyrics.

8. Goodie Mob Soul Food (released 1995)

“…bumpin’ Goodie Mob Soul Food number 4…” T.I. “Top Back” King

Where I First Heard It: I actually heard snippets of this album before I heard the whole thing because one of my boy’s brothers in high school worked at LaFace in Atlanta for a summer or something and got some stolen copy of the sampler a good 6 months before their album dropped. I was driving around Huntsville as the only cat who had parts of Soul Food and turned EVERYBODY onto the shit. Folks were hating at first on the Mob, but when the album dropped, every body was on their nuts. But I heard the snippets at my boys house right before his brother gave me the tape since he hated it. It felt like Christmas.

Why I Love It: These were some of the grittiest niggas on the planet. Plus they coined the phrase Dirty South (Soul Food, track #4), which is still riding strong to this day. To this day I’m still scared of Khujo because he seemed like the angriest nigga live. Ice Cube had nothing on Khujo Goodie. I got his autograph once and I was afraid to ask him for it. This album is just very straight forward and has some of the best of the Orangized Noise production work of any album. Gritty but soulful, powerful but not abrasive. Plus these dudes were spitting some real shit. I don’t think there’s a single punchline on the whole album. Just honest straight forward spittin. They were talking about life and how fucked up it can be. And I loved it. And the song “Soul Food” is one of the best southern songs ever made. I will stand by that statement forever. Oh yeah, and I HATE HATE HATE T-Mo Goodie, though I know a lot of people love his ass. Everytime he says “coming up in this life of crime” (which he says on like 4 songs) I just want to stab Bob Barker. And for some reason, the song “The Day After” always makes me sentimental. I just get swept away listening to it. And I’m still a manly man bitches.

Stand-Out Tracks: “Soul Food”, “Cell Therapy”, “Dirty South”, “Thought Process (classic Dre, not Andre 3000 verse)”, “The Day After”

Goodie Mob Related Story: I remember in my Biology class at Morehouse a full fledged argument broke out, which completely disrupted the class, between two dudes arguing over which album was better, Soul Food or Still Standing. And when I say argument, I mean as in a fight might break out. THAT is how you know you make poweful music. When niggas will potentially forego their education to make sure you understand the passion they feel about their favorite albums. College can’t be what it used to be.

7. A Tribe Called Quest Midnight Marauders (released 1993)

Where I First Heard It: This is the album I can’t remember first hearing, probably cuz I really got into Tribe late. So I’ll assume from my boy Johnny Kwest going thru his CD’s at our apartment in college. So maybe a good 7 years late.

Why I Love It: I have no excuse for getting into Midnight Marauders late. Especially since I was a big fan of “Scenario” from The Low End Theory. I just never really liked Tribe like that. I hated “Check The Rhyme” with the passion of Mel Gibson and “Bonita Appebum”, eh, I’ll pass. But when I heard “Electric Relaxation” I was done. Then I got the album and the shit bangs from start to finish. How ANYBODY thinks Tribe’s first two albums are better than this is beyond me. In fact, if you think that, you are wrong. Period. And your opinion on hiphop just may become moot to me. The beats bang, the production is just better, its just a better album. Period. Any true hiphop fan needs this in their catalog.

Stand-Out Tracks: “Electric Relaxation”, “Sucka Nigga”, “We Can Get Down”, “Clap Your Hands”, “Award Tour”, fuck it, the whole thing

ATCQ Realization: I know why I got on Tribe late. During their heyday, I was HEAVY into the West Coast. From Ice Cube to NWA to DJ Quik to Snoop to the DOC to Above The Law, if it wasn’t the West Coast during this time, I probably wasn’t listening. Hell I paid 25 bucks like a year ago for an album by a nigga named Lil Half Dead from Long Beach that I had the tape of (and lost) in like 1994. And he is the WORST rapper ever, but his beats were hot as hell. Wesssssssssyde.

6. Ice Cube Death Certificate (released 1991)

Where I First Heard It: On the Strasse (German subway) heading to school in 6th grade. I heard the “Giving Up The Nappy Dugout” cuz one of my friends had the tape. I was SOLD.

Why I Love It: I’ve always loved Ice Cube. I mean, he was the Angriest Nigga Alive until like 1993, and then in 1995 Khujo Goodie took over (see #8). Arguably AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted is a better album, but this joint just bangs from start to finish. He was going for the top spot with this album and he clinched it. The production was great, Cube was still a good rapper, and amidst the street stories he would throw in some funny ass songs, like “Giving Up The Nappy Dugout”, a nice euphemism for the poonany. (You remember MC Brains?) Anyway, Cube just had a way with the rhymes back then and this album fully illustrated it. He could get political, racial, discuss STD’s, get ignorant…he just ran the gamut. He also had one of the best diss tracks to come out of the whole NWA/Ice Cube feud with “No Vaseline”. And for that I appreciate him. At least I did because now I never want to hear him rap again. EVER.

“I’ll never have dinner with the President…” - Ice Cube, 1991, “No Vaseline”

Why would I not be surprised to see his ass sitting up at the White House nowadays with George Bush sipping tea? Oh how the mighty have fallen. Not that they’d see eye to eye, but Bush might give him some award for his humanitarian efforts and thank him for not rapping anymore.

Stand-Out Tracks: “Steady Mobbin’”, “The Wrong Nigga To Fuck Wit”, “No Vaseline”

Ice Cube Related Story: Last summer, I was driving a friend of mine to work in the morning and I was playing Death Certificate. My friend, who is black, after listening to a few songs was like, “damn, I can see why white people were afraid of him. I’m afraid of him after listening to this.” She then realized it was Ice Cube and now he makes movies like Are We There Yet? She is no longer scared. Anytime an album can make you feel like a white person, that is some powerful music.

Tomorrow: #s 1-5