…is love, sweet love.

It’s coincidental that while I’m listening to one of my favorite. songs. ever. “What The World Needs Now Is Love” by Jackie DeShannon, that I come across an article that seems so insanely insane, it must be true.

Prattville Student Punished for Hugging Classmate Appears on NBC’s Today Show

Good God.

For those two lazy to click-and-read, here’s the crux of the article right here:

The mother of a student in Autauga County says her daughter was disciplined for simply hugging a friend.

She says the hug wasn’t meant to be sexual. She says her daughter was consoling a male friend who recently lost a parent.

I’ve decided that discipline in public schools has crossed the damn line. Just last year a young girl was suspended from school for having a key-chain that constituted a weapon according to a very conservative reading of a school district’s policy. Kids across America, little kids, are being suspended and disciplined for doing nothing more than doing kid things.

And what is a hug? Let’s be clear, nowhere do the powers-that-be mention that any groping or anything was going on. This young girl was hugging a dude. Perhaps since I don’t work in the public school system (or any school system for that matter), I’m missing the need to punish youngsters for all acts of public affection. I understand the need for disciplining two kids who are tongue-ing eachother down in the hallway or getting head under the lunch room table — which I’ve actually seen happen.

I’ve seen some shit that definitely needs to be nipped in the tuck. However, I think that hugging just might go over the line. Shit, a hug can be one of the most harmless acts ever. Granted, a hug can be sexual…then again, there’s a very clear delineation between the two. You can tell when some kids are hugging in a jolly way. I know. I used to do it. It was fun. I’ve been a witness to and a party to some overly inappropriate behavior in my high school days. Shit, one day one of my exe’s was wearing a skirt to school but she really wanted me to see the new panties she’d bought. So what does a bright, creative, young lady do?

Starts kicking her legs up in the air so I can see her nether-regions and her draws. And I saw a teacher watch it happen and do nothing. I thought we were finna get suspended. Hell, I’d have suspended us. That’s just going too damn far. However, kids hugging just doesn’t seem so bad. If anything it gives me hope that the kids are indeed the future. And that we HAVE taught them well and we can indeed let them lead the way.

Well, not really. But you get my drift.

I think that short of a sexually inappropriate gesture or touching or seeing a young girl or boy dry humping against a locker (once again, which I’ve seen), discipline for public displays of affection really needs some leeway.

But it goes back to the problem with schools nowadays anyway. We’re so afraid of kids shooting up our schools, which is a real fear, that we take every OTHER rule to its extreme, forgetting that for the most part, these kids are just that, kids. And they like one another before we tell them that they shouldn’t. So they play nice at times and hug because they like eachother.

And we make them pay for it.

Basically, some administrator didn’t get any lovin’ that day.

I was reading an article on vh1 a few weeks back regarding T.I. and his whole army-guns problem and in this article Wyclef Jean made a statement akin to this:

“The way people listen and respond to T.I. when he talks is like Malcolm X…”

Yeah. Okay.

I’d like to call on a moratorium in the Black community on anybody saying that anybody is like Malcolm X. Funny how nobody ever claims somebody is like Martin. The only person to do that said that he, himself, was like Martin. And that was Benzino.

Yeah, that Benzino.

But you know what? I’m bored. What the hell, let’s run with T.I. being like Malcolm. Let’s see if we can figure out ways they are a alike, k?

Let’s see. Ah, Malcolm X went to jail. So did T.I. Malcolm X became an orator and person of immense influence and respect. Well, T.I. has kind of got that. I mean he ain’t speaking nothing that’s going to get him on the government radar…

…unless you count the taped conversations being used against him in his whole “I’ve got guns to take out North Korea” small problem.

Oh…both of them managed to wake up in the morning. Well, until Malcolms untimely death in 1965. Yeah, I’m kind of reaching with that one but then again so was Wyclef by even making any kind of reference to Malcolm X in regards to T.I. Look, T.I. doesn’t move mountains or make me want to do anything more than listen to his music. Even after his last ass-sandwich of an album, I’ll still listen. Though at this point I’m not sure why.

Of course, by the time T.I. gets out of jail, he’ll be too old to matter anymore. Though Jay has managed to still be relevant despite being 37 years of age.

LL Cool J? Not so much. Even his high-heeled fans don’t care about him anymore.

In my humble opinion, the last real rapper of any significance to mirror Malcolm was Ice Cube. And that shit went clean out the window by the time Lethal Injection came around. AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted and Death Certificate Cube? Hell yeah. Even I was afraid of Ice Cube back then. He really seemed like the angriest nigga alive and more dangerously, the most awake nigga alive too. Shit, I wanted to be Ice Cube like so many folks want to be Malcolm X.

Except nobody is Malcolm. ESPECIALLY not no dumb nigga like T.I. And yes, hoarding guns is DUMB when there’s a chance you can go to jail for it. Further, why the fuck do you have military assault weaponry? I mean, being an ATLien, and similarly a Westsider, I understand how folks get down on our side of town. But damn, a .45 will do just as well. Got damn Calicos and rocket launchers are just unnecessary.

I mean really. Where the hell do you put shit like that anyway? Hammer pants are out of style so you can’t hid the Calico in those. Maybe some gauchos. Yeah, I can see that.

These loose ass analogies we make to legends in the Black community are just terrible. Further, they’re like one man deep. When was the last time you heard a nigga get referenced to W.E.B. Du Bois? Shit, when was the last time you met somebody who didn’t go to college who knew who he was? Or A. Phillip Randolph.

Niggas know Project Pat though. Damn shame, too. Though I don’t like reading The Souls of Black Folks either. Makes for a hell of an album title though, dontchathink?

As you can tell, I really had no purpose other than to say: Wyclef must have lost his rabid ass mind thinking that motherfucking T.I. even compares to Malcolm X aside from the fact that both of them niggas are ya know, Black.

And also, sadatay.

Thank you and good night.

[***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.

Unless you’ve been living under Chris Rock, crack rock, or rock (paper, scissors), you know that Jay-Z has a new album coming out on November 6 entitled American Gangster. Said to be inspired by the identically titled movie coming out November 2nd starring Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe, Jay has allegedly harkened back to his recently questioned drug dealer past and revisited the emotions and trappings of a drug dealer success story.

I like writing pseudo-critic-like. Except I don’t. Which is why I hate that last sentence up there. Oy vey.

L’chaim!

So Jay has a new ablum coming out and allegedly watching the rise and fall of Frank Lucas, one of Harlem’s most notorious motherfuckers, gave rise to Jay’s latent creative spirits. Lucky us since his last attempt at creative spirit gave us Kingdom Come. And we all know how that one ended. In case you don’t though, it ended bad. Though I did like some songs, its just that the bad songs were quite possibly the worst of his career.

And lest we forget, he did make The Blueprint 2 which had like a gazillion wack joints on it. Either way, after Kingdom Come, most of us are a little skeptical about this new album for a few reasons. For one, I HATE(d) Blue Magic. I know some folks love that song.

Two, Puffy is responsible for at least 6 songs on this album. Now that’s not to say that Puffy-induced works haven’t been classic. It’s just to say that Puffy-induced works haven’t been classic since a certain now-waxed-out figure was blocka-blocka’d in Los Angeles.

R.I.P. Christopher Wallace.

Then the snippets of American Gangster hit the net and I’ll be honest and say I was less than enthused. In convo’s with my boy I said I’d reserve judgement until I could hear the whole songs because a snippet really doesn’t give you all you need to know to judge something, though I was even less excited after hearing them.

What a difference a day makes. Word to Esther Phillips. It appears that some sap leaked that damn Jay album onto the net (minus two songs, “Ignorant Shit” and “Party Life”). So like every other nigga, I got it and listened sat outside on the curb while some fellow decided to play the entire album over and over again long enough for me to accurately review and ingrain the songs in my mind.

Can I say I love this album? I can? Good. I love this album. This is some of that real hip-hop shit that folks have been waiting for Jay to make for a while. None of this is really radio-friendly, not even the two Neptune’s songs. Go figure?! So let’s discuss shall we?

Here’s the rundown. Thirteen “album” cuts and two “bonus” cuts. Six joints by Puffy and his new Hittmen Sean C. and LV (so I suppose that means Sean C and LV produced them and Puffy came in and hit a button, said, “take that, take that” and wham, he’s the producer), two tracks by the combo of No ID and Jermaine Dupri (I had no clue No ID was on So So Def), one DJ Toomp track, one Neptunes album cut, some nigga named Bigg D (pause) and one Just Blaze cut. Features include Lil Wayne on a song called “Hello Brooklyn 2.0″ (WTF?) and Beanie Sigel on “Ignorant Shit”. And the immortal Nas.

I’ll just go track by track since I’m starting to bore myself.

“Intro”

Idris Elba is on this. Who’d a thunk just a few short years ago that gotdamn Idris Elba aka Stringer Bell would be the most indemand motherfucker in the Black community? Not me. All the dudes want to be him and all the women want to fuck him. I’m well on my way, he was studying Economics at a community college in Baltimore and I got a degree from a prestgious school in Atlanta. But I live close to Baltimore (enough, anyway) so I can go get that Associates! By the way, I don’t care for this, it’s an intro.

“Pray” (Produced by Puffy, Sean C, LV)

I presume this is Beyonce “praying” on this joint. Eh…I’ll pass. In fact, I don’t care for the first 4 tracks as a whole. All produced by Puffy and ‘nem. I wonder what it feels like to “produce” with Puffy knowing nobody is going to care who you are because you’re working with P. “I added a bell so I’m a producer” Diddy.

“American Gangster” (Produced by Puffy, Sean C, LV)

Yeah, honestly, I listen to this shit so infrequently I don’t even remember what it sounds like. That’s how much I don’t like it. My listening starts at track 5 and this is track 3. Another Puffy ass-sandwich.

“No Hook”(produced by Puffy, Sean C., LV)

But you so needed one. Here’s a good time to mention that the whole “no hook” thing is an over-arching theme on this album. There are no conventional catchy hooks a la everything post Reasonable Doubt. No hooks = hip-hop.

“Hello Brooklyn 2.0″ featuring Lil Weeziana aka Weezy F. Baby (please say the Baby) (produced by Bigg D)

This was apparently a song for The Carter III but Jay heard it thru his old homeboys who now manage Lil Wayne and Jay wanted it. This shit knocks so hard. It’s all 808 knock and old school feelin’. Lil Wayne actually is kind of good as hell on this joint. Though he ain’t rapping, more like sinapping. Not quite singing, not quite rapping. Sinapping. Or Ringing if it suits you. Though ringing might imply he’s a phone. And he’s so not a phone.

“Roc Boys”

Fuckin’ amazing joint where Jay pays homage to all the unheralded elements of the drug game, namely the Duffle bag which has made SUCH the come up this year. Between this song and the “Duffle Bag” song, we should see Duffle bag sales go up tremendously in the next quarter. Yay for drug paraphanelia! The horns on this song are everybit as scrumptious as pie. And Americans love pie. This is one of the Puffy joints that is fire.

“Sweet” (produced by Puffy, Sean C, LV)

Another Hittmen joint (they got like all the first songs save the joint with Lil Wayne). I should not here that this LV is not the fat nigga that was singing with Coolio on “Gangster’s Paradise” but another LV. Apparently L and V are just popular letters. Word to the word Love. And Live. Live Love. Word. Life. This joint bangs like Ricky Martin. Simply, it’s sweet. Has some real 70’s blaxploitation sound to it. Just listen. Or if you’re Musiq and can’t spell or use a space bar, jusslissen.

“I Know” (produced by Pharrell)

Strangely subdued for a Neptunes/Pharrell joint. It doesn’t sound radiofriendly despite sounding radiofriendly, if that makes any sense. Hmm, I just re-read that. It doesn’t make any sense but I’m sticking by it. Here’s an example, in college, me and my boy used to always see this girl who had all the elements of a fine chick (nice hair, nice skintone, nice body, nice eyes) but somehow she just wasn’t fine. We used to call her “All For Nothing”. This beat has all the usual Neptunes radio hit elements but its still not radio. It however is fuckin’ hot in a chimey type of way. Ironically entitled “I Know” since I don’t know what he’s talking about on it since I never really listen, I just skim thru it. Teehee.

“Say Hello” (produced by DJ Toomp)

This shit bangs so hard. Strangely (I guess not considering its DJ Toomp) it sounds similar to “Can’t Tell Me Nothing” except more pleasant in scope. I must say that Toomp is a pretty diverse producer. And he’s a guaranteed hitmaker. T.I.? You listening? When you get ot of jail in 2017, call Toomp back up for your comeback album.

Now is a good place to mention, this album gets progressively better as it goes along. It’s like each joint gets that much more focused lyrically and that much better sonically. That’s some damn good sequencing Jay. Damn good.

“Success” featuring Nas (produced by No ID and Jermaine Dupri)

Dude…this might be one of the best hip-hop songs to come out in years. This beat is uber-fucking ridiculous. And simple too. Simple 4 bar loop. Jay focused as THE fuck and speaking about all the niggas (DeHaven, Calvin “Klein” Bacote) who’ve been speaking about him over the past few months. Fuck them niggas. In fact, he shits on you niggas. Jay thinks success sucks cuz of the stress and he likes the taste of Ace of Spades. I’ve never even had Moet Rose. Guess I’m not successful. Jay and Nas are both great on this shit. They need to do an album together of straight hip-hop banger like this. For real. I’ve had this shit on repeat The dude who’s been playing this out of his car while I listened on the curb has had this shit on repeat for days.

“Fallin’” (produced by Jermaine Dupri and No I.D.)

Despite the beat-jacking accusation by Ski Beatz (of “Dead Presidents” and Camp Lo) fame, this beat is pretty good though I think “Success” is hands down the best shit on the album. Jay discusses the downfall of the drug dealer. Man, being a drug dealer sounds like it sucks. For reals. Word to hip-hop. Wonder why so many niggas do it? Hmm…me no know.

All in all this album is solid like a motherfucker. Every needs this joint to hear Jay back in the clutches of what he does best, speaking from the hustler’s end, not the end of the dude staring at pieces of art in a gallery in Paris. Hell, most niggas can’t tell you where Paris is on a map, nevermind not ever going to an art gallery.

And seriously, I get Gwynneth Paltrow and the Kill Bill chick mixed up all the time. This album ain’t classic, but it’s a banger.

Cop that shit.

Word.Life.

Homecoming is often a difficult time of year for me. I venture back to Atlanta, as do all my friends, with the thought that I have to return back home to DC in just a few days. And it isn’t even like we’re reliving our college days. We get drunk and act a fool everywhere — not just Atlanta.

But I also love Homecoming way beyond words. I live for Morehouse/Spelman homecomings. And strange enough, it seems like me and my compadres are the only group of folks still coming out in full force. Literally, we ALL always come to homecoming and party hard. Or as hard as one can party when approaching 30 but not quite there yet. For instance, one of my boys, Padre (is what I shall call him) is becoming such an old fogey that he got beat up by the Bitch Beach Mobile.

We rented and were givein a PT Cruiser. The very night we got into the car the first time, he hit his old ass knee on the dashboard and wasn’t right all weekend. Poor sap. While we’re talking about fucked up, let me tell you about fucked up. I go by the book and go get my car from the airport ticket counter. My girlfriend? Chicks ALWAYS have drama.

We end up with a PT Cruiser. She ends up with a damn 300M. You know, the Fake-Ass-Phantom. All that room for one person whereas we have 3. Life is an ugly bitch sometimes. Word to Grace Jones.

Anyway, this homecoming was way more low-key than any I’ve ever been too. Last year was such a blow-out good time I don’t even remember most of it. I’ve seen pictures floating around but you know, short of the pictures with actual proof, I can neither confirm nor deny that I was in any of them.

Confused much?

Unlike last year, when we showed up at my boys house and ended up ODing on the worst whiskey known to man…this year we couldn’t even find the liquor in the house. I mean we searched hi-and-low.

You know, I know I’m getting old at this point. For one, on Saturday night…PRIME HOMECOMING NIGHT, what did me and my friends do? Went bowling. And by the way, I SUCK at bowling. A lot lot. Though on Friday night we ended up hitting Compound. Let me tell you how much I love that place. Their sound system is amazing.

Another sign of old age — when you care about how the sound sounds in a club. Of course, I ended up spending lots of dough in there and drunk. Word to the wise–when going piss in the bushes, make sure you pay attention for any sleeping homeless men who might scare the living fuck out of you if you aren’t careful in some damn bushes off of Marietta Blvd.

I’m just saying, niggas at night in bushes might scare you shitless. Luckily I just had to piss.

You know, its interesting. The older I get, the less actual homecoming, with respect to planned activites, we seem to do. We spend more time spending more time together as a unit. Kind of our own little show of a decade of solidarity. The people I came into college with are still the same people I’m friends with now and in some sense that’s damn near amazing. I know people retain college friends forever, but we still do all the same shit together at any given opportunity. We travel together for the hell of it. We get drunk and destroy cities together for the hell of it. If my boy is going to be in Alaska…shucks, why not go to Alaska.

I feel genuinely lucky in that regard. Most, if not all but two, of the chicks we normally hang with from the good ole college days balked at homecoming this year. Which sucks. I miss my friends…a lot.

And mostly, I miss being with my friends in Atlanta. Though the way it’s looking, that won’t be lasting forever since all of us (though one person needs some convincing) that we’ll all be there since I want to live in Atlanta. I love the city. I love the weather. I love the red dirt.

F.I.L.A.

So basically, I just wrote all that nothing to say:

Keep hope alive. One day Al Sharpton will shave his head.

Thank you.

By now, most folks have heard about the uproar in Detroit where a promoter decided to throw a party where Lightskinneded womenses and Libras got in free. If you haven’t, please do read the article.

*smoke break*

You back? Well, welcome!

I’ve heard numerous individuals discussing this story and lots of folks have harassed this young man for his colorism and ignorance in deciding to add fuel to the color cocophony in this country by further dividing an already divided race of people who’ve been hurt enough by white people’s focus on skin color. Why–oh why–would we do it to our own.

Poor fellow. He’s gone and cancelled his party and listened to the cries of the men and women who speak out against such atrocities in our community.

They should all eat a dick and die.

From the heart.

It’s amazing how stories and intentions can get totally misconstrued and fucked the fucked up through the little game we call “Telephone”. Hell, read the headline to the linked article. I first heard about this through some club promoters in DC telling me about this “light-skinned party” in Detroit and how this guy was throwing a party for lightskinned people. No mention of the Lightskinned FREE that night or that it was a party for everybody. We actually then engaged in a discussion of what kind of self-hate party we could throw in DC.

We landed on “Light and White in White” — a party where only lightskinned people dating white people could come through as long as they were wearing white. We’d serve fried chicken martini’s with watermelon slices. It’s amazing the ignorance that’s possible when you get enough like-minded ignant motherfuckers in the same place. Viva la imagination!

Anyway, upon further review, it turns out this promoter, DJ Lish, was planning on doing upcoming parties in a series, if you will, that would include dark skinned and the nebulous “ain’t light but ain’t dark” or better known as the “caramel” sisters.

IGNANT SIDENOTE: You know we have too much food in America when Black folks take to describing our color in food terms. I ain’t never met an African who refers to him or herself as a Chocolate drop. Perhaps coicidentally, there’s some starving ass motherfuckers over there too. You get to calling yourself Choco-Latay and you just might get cannibalised. Too. much. food. in. America.

Let’s delve a little shall we? Was this fellow slightly misguided? Perhaps. Any time you decide to throw skin tone into the mix with los Negros, you’re welcoming criticsm. Face it, we’re still a bunch of people who are psychologically and literally paying for our God (or whoever you pray to) given blessings. And because of that, skin tone issues are largely a sparkplug for outrage.

Hmm, fuck that.

Let me rephrase this (which is the source of this dude’s problem). Ever since the slavery days, lightskinned and dark skinned folks have been at odds. Sometimes blatantly, sometimes latently. Think about the barbs thrown our way. People ALWAYS resort to using somebody’s skin tone when making disparaging comments.

“Lightskinned bitch thinks she’s better than me!”

“Dark skinned motherfucker lookin’ like midnight!”

And we wonder why white people do it.

Thing is, implicit in both of those statements lies the problem. There’s a clear ideology about how skin tone plays into society. Light is right and dark is, well…dark. And we’ve all bought into it in some way shape or form. It’s a sad state of affairs but its unfortunately the state we live in. It’s like living in Montana when you know California exists.

It’s like rain on your wedding day. Oh wait, that’s actually ironic.

Or not. Am I the only person who got slightly peeved that she called so many things that weren’t actually ironic, ironic? She kept noting coincidences, not ironies. Though I suppose saying, “Now isn’t it a coincidence” doesn’t have the same punch. But I digress.

Dark skinned people constantly get the short end of the stick. And it sucks. But you know, that’s not really lightskinned people’s fault. It’s white people’s fault, but much like Black-on-Black crime…

…we STAY robbing the wrong people.

Yes, Black people stay losing.

So here comes DJ Lish, who from my perspective only made one real mistake.

He threw the wrong party first. But let’s think about this. How many of you people are party promoters? And for those who’ve been doing it for a while, how difficult is it to come up with something that actually draws people in? Promoting sucks. There are really not that many things you can do as a promoter to really draw folks in short of random gimmicks. Enter DJ Lish.

And he had a good idea. It’s a winner, a gimmick catered to the very women most men harp on in the media. Light chicks.

“…and all the wavey light skinned girls is loving me now…” ~ Jay - Z “December 4th”

Wrong or right, it’s true. And I’m sure a lot of light skinned reading chicks probably hate the lightskinned-points they get, but they sure don’t mind the attention. But the point is promoters need gimmicks to draw people in. Promotion is an ugly game.

So he picked the Light and Libra party. Bad move bucko, but not a bad idea. You should have just started with the Sexual Chocolate first because niggas hate color schemes, but don’t mind Chocolate as much as we mind Light-skinned preference. We actually love it when people of darker-hue receive recognition.

Read: India.Arie’s fanbase.

I think the outrage wouldn’t have been as loud for that party. Color me stupid and call me Renee but I think that our color issues intra-racially are far more skewed towards wanting to knock light-skinned “bitches” down a peg or two. So of course, any party that celebrates and benefits a woman’s light-skinnededness is going to catch hell. And the purveyor is going to catch wreck.

I wish this DJ would call me because I’d love to tell him not to listen to the motherfuckers who called for his head and have decided that he realizes he was wrong and should work on being a better person.

Fuck them.

Is he naive? Clearly, he thought he was just going to throw a party that allowed light-skinned chicks to gain entry free one night, but what he got was national attention and articles and phone calls. Playing with skin-tone is playing with fire, bucko. You can still play that game but you have to play it smarter. It’s actually a win-win. You throw that first Sexual Chocolate party and you can’t NOT throw the other two.

That’s how you stay winning.

But this dude has been reprimanded and scoffed at and I think that’s total bullshit. Not a bad idea, just bad judgement and decision-making on his part. Intra-race issues will be present forever, but everything ain’t as terrible as we want it to be.

Except the “Light and White and White” Party…there’s just no excuse for that one.

Word to Al Sharpton.

And the church said…

DAMN! DAMN! DAMN! JAMES!!!!!!!!!

T.I.

What. The. Fuck?

Look, I don’t care if the hip-hop police are out there or not trappin’ niggas left and right trying to take a brotha down. As a convicted felon, you need to be smarter than that shit, right?

For those that don’t know, don’t show, or just don’t care about what’s going on in rap music, everybody’s favorite trapper, T.I. got busted on Saturday after his bodyguard-turned-informant basically handed his ass over to ATF on a count of buying .9mm automatic machine guns and silencers.

Feel free to go to CNN.com. It’s front page news. On CNN.

And then can go to vh1.com to read an entire account of what happened.

What are silencers? Glad you asked. According to taped conversations, T.I. provies the answer. You see when you fire a gun, sometimes it makes a loud noise and there is a flash of fire. So, T.I….what is a silencer?

“No flash, no bang.”

I’m SO getting that put on a T-shirt the same day I get my t-shirt that says, “I got good credit”.

Free T.I.

Those are the NEXT hood shirts coming to a ghetto near you.

And he had guns in the house…in a safe…in his bedroom. Loaded automatic weapons. And he’s a convicted felon. As my homegirl Liz just stated, “T.I. is the posterboy for when keeping it real goes wrong.” And boy is that shit ever true. I honestly don’t understand this situation at all. Whether or not he was being targeted is unimportant. And do you know why? I’ll tell you why…

…he’s supposed to ASSUME he is. I guess Tip forgot to reiterate to T.I. the rules of the game.

Rule #1: If you are a convicted motherfucking felon…HIDE YOUR SHIT.

And according to the 10 Crack Commandments courtesy of the Notorious B.I.G.:

Rule #3: Never trust nobody, your mom’s’ll set that ass up properly gassed up.

His bodyguard sent him up shit’s creek. That nigga flipped like the little Chinaman in Ocean’s 11, 12, and 13.

You know, I feel bad for T.I. (kind of). You’d think the nigga had his shit together or was at least well on his way to getting all of his shit together. But the fact that he had numerous automatic weapons and was out buying more just reeks of a dude who can’t let shit go. Michael Vick just got fucked the fuck up behind his niggas snitching on him and now T.I. is going down behind something like this.

First, Prodigy of Mobb Deep gets 3 and a half years in the bing. And now T.I. is well on his way to the jail house in the Feds. Not Fulton County. Federal pen. Sure when he comes out he’ll have even MORE credibility but short of his lawyers being able to pull off the entrapment defense, he might be gone for a dime or more. And by the time he gets out nobody will care anymore.

I hope this shit works out for him in the end mostly because we don’t need anymore Black men in jail, but got damn, when niggas do dumb shit, we really go the extra mile.

If we could only show that kind of dedication in education…

Free T.I.

And I’m not talking about his debut album’s sales totals either. Besides that was like 2006 or some shit.

As of now, most people are aware of Lupe Fiasco’s flub at the vh1 Hip Hop Honors tribute to A Tribe Called Quest (ATCQ) on Monday night. He fucked up the words to “Electric Relaxation”, one of Tribe’s landmark and most famous songs. The song comes from Tribe’s album Midnight Marauders, which is one of my favorite hip-hop albums ever. I wrote about it a long time ago but I’m too lazy to link to the post. Sue me.

(Incidentally Lupe plans on suing Vibe magazine for defamation of character for their flub of semi-fanning the flames by using a little bit of time-line trickery by printing an interview with Lupe done before the Hip-Honors show that seems way fucked up when read AFTER the Hip-Hop Honors show.)

Courtesy of vh1, here’s a link to the all of the events that have occured under Fiascogate. (Click the link)

My opinion on this whole affair is kind of two fold. Lupe fucked up some lines to a rap song, big fucking deal. I think the part that’s fucked up is his approach to discussing why he fucked up. For one, he probably shouldn’t have engaged anybody in this debate but he did and came off like a dick. Luckily, I wasn’t a fan of his anyway but whereas his previous lack of interest in ATCQ and their catalog was kind of a non-starter his now stubborn stance on his intention to never listen to it in its entirety or even care that it is a landmark album is kind off-putting. Phonte from Little Brother (whose response I largely agree with) got one thing right; Lupe is definitely benefitting from being placed in the same vein as folks like ATCQ.

Interestingly enough, I wouldn’t put him there myself. Sure, he’s a “positive” rapper–a term I loathe, by the way–but I’ve never felt he was Tribe-esque. He was just not 50 Cent or Young Jeezy in the way that ATCQ and De La Soul and the whole Native Tongues weren’t NWA or Spice 1 or Ice T or King Tee for that matter. Granted, on The Low End Theory, Tribe did take on some social commentary and subject matter, but on Midnight Marauders, not so much. So it’s kind of a what-you-are-because-of-what-you’re-not kind of deal in my mind.

But Lupe’s become the guy-du-jour. For fuck’s sake, he was one of GQ’s men of the year or some shit, and for no good reason mind you. His album (executive produced by Jay-Z) was alright but it didn’t change anything. More people were talking about Lupe because of his deviation than for his artistry. Which is more a sad testament to us than it is to the greatness that is Lupe. He’s so different and he wears colorful clothes and tight-pants and likes cartoons. He’s a hip-hop nerd. Truthfully, if Pharrell hadn’t saddled up to him so that they could be hip-hop nerds together, my guess is that there’d be some uber-gay pocket-protector Trapper Keeper beatdowns between them (musically of course) with Kanye officiating in a pink Polo and Cole Haan loafers.

And at least Pharrell doesn’t claim to be a skateboarder like Lupe does…and he isn’t.

One of Lupe’s defenses during this whole “scandal” (if we must put a term on it) is that he didn’t grow up on ATCQ but on Spice 1, NWA, and Eightball and MJG. Hmm, me too. NWA is my favorite group of all time and similarly, De La Soul’s album, de la soul is dead is my favorite album of all time. But I listened to all that same shit Lupe was listening to so I have to wonder how the fuck he glossed over Tribe. Granted, I wasn’t the biggest Tribe fan until later. But when I did start paying attention I was stuck. Midnight Marauders is one of those albums I can take with me anywhere and will buy the second I think I lost it. Who cares if I find it later, I lost it then. And I have to have that album. It’s part of me.

It’s also one of the albums that makes its way everywhere and everybody knows and respects. Nobody says that it isn’t worth listening to. So why not pick it up Lupe? At this point, he ain’t listening to make a point. Which is a stupid point. In the Kay Slay interview, when Mr. Drama King himself asked him if he had listened to it or if he planned on it, Lupe responded with, “no, I haven’t listened to it yet. I’ve been busy with my album.”

That’s the second stupidest shit I might have ever heard in my life. The first?

Any of George Bush’s speeches from 2001-?

Anybody who knows about the music making process knows that you listen to all types of shit when making music. It’s called inspiration. Also, the fuckin’ album doesn’t even clock in at longer than an hour. The nigga’s from Chicago. He could pop it in while he’s sitting in traffic and finish it by the time he got to a Harold’s from O’Hare.

There’s another thing that gets lost on me in regards to this whole debacle and that hasn’t been mentioned.

He had to get lyrics to TWO songs in a tribute. “Electric Relaxation” and “Scenario”. And he didn’t have to do Busta’s part since Busta did his own part on “Scenario”. I’m a Tribe fan, but they weren’t exactly kicking physics or being overly complicated with rhyme patterns or anything. A sampling:

“by the way my name’s Malik, the 5 foot freak//let’s say we get together by the end of th week” ~ Phife Dawg, “Electric Relaxation”

Hell, you can take two hours and memorize a good four songs on that album since the verses ain’t exactly difficult. Do niggas mess up lyrics? Sure, I was at an Outkast show in Atlanta where Andre 3000 fucked up his own verse. Hell did you see Kanye fuck up his verse on “Everything I Am” on Saturday Night Live? It happens.

However, all he had to do was memorize a damn verse and spend time reciting it for a TRIBUTE. All he had to do was focus on that shit because it’s a tribute. ONE verse. Kanye fucking up is kind of endearing. Hell, he’s human and he shows us all the time through his arrogance, pride, and passion. But this was a tribute show to ATCQ. The least you could do was not fuck that up. In fact, the only difficult part of “Electric Relaxation” is the damn part in the hook where the voiceover says “Relax Yourself and some shit that even 15+ years later I have no clue what’s being said”.

Lupe fucked up. He shouldn’t have and he could have nailed it but he didn’t. However, his uberfucking studity in the way he’s handled it is what made it a problem.

“I’m not backpack rap,” says Lupe. Okay, nigga. Whether you are or not, ATCQ and specifically Midnight Maruaders is just one of those groups that everybody who’s really into the art behind hip-hop know. How can you not? It’s arrogant to so adamantly deny yourself an album because “that ain’t you”.

Who cares what you grew up on? Who says you can’t expand your horizons? Most of us interested in music do at some point. Tribe isn’t obscure and they had 3 platinum albums in pre-Master P/Puffy dominated rap world. And how the fuck are you going to be so big-up in respecting Tip and his musical legacy if you don’t actually know what the fuck it is that everybody seems to respect so much?

In short, Lupe’s an idiot.

Thank you and goodnight.

PS - Who in the Blue Fuck thought Missy deserved to be honored?

I wonder if white people walk into a room full of white people and notice that everybody is, ya know, white?

I know I do (I’m Black though). Everytime I walk into a room where the overwhelming majority of people are white I not only notice but I look for the other person(s) of color in the room. Of course, once I notice them, we spend the the duration of time that we’re in said location pretending not to notice one another.

But we notice. Oh, how we notice. I’m sure that white people do it as well if they walk into a room full of coloreds. But that’s mostly because they’re in jail at that point and it’s going to be lights out pretty soon for them anyway.

Lights out?!? That’s a pun and I didn’t even intend it. There should be a term for those puns that people accident-upon. Something like: no pun intended.

That’d be swell.

This recognition-lack of recognition of one another makes me realize something: Black people are fucked. We have the worst sense of unity of any other cultural group; I’m convinced of it. I went to both an HBCU and a big ole’ white public state school on the East Coast. At HBCU’s there’s no rush to speak or even notice all the Black people since we’re in such abundance. Nevermind that it’s a completely false representation of the real world and that it shouldn’t be taken for granted that we’re in the midst of likeminded individuals who can actually read and aren’t afraid of information at the same place at the same time. Yet we kind of gloss over the importance and landmarkism of it.

It’s college, who the fuck cares. Give me my hours and give me my degree. Fuck you, pay me.

Amazing how many people long for the constant recognition of successful driven Black people once they graduate (unless you went to Morehouse since ninjas apparently don’t graduate from there much) and re-enter the world we’re all more familiar with — you know, the world where its hard as hell to find the professional Black crowd and we’re often left longing for the intellectual stimulation that comes along with late night arguments about which A Tribe Called Quest album was better, The Low-End Theory or Midnight Marauders.

It’s Midnight Marauders, by the way. You can disagree but you will be wrong.

At our HBCU’s we see eachother but we don’t really notice one another. We’re just all there so we assume we’ll always be there. Don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone kind of thing.

And then we have the big ass state schools were there’s usually a handful of coloreds who STILL make all attempts NOT to notice one another. When I went to Big Ass State University, every time I’d see a Black person I’d speak. Hell, we had the same struggle. We were pepper sprinkles in a big ass cauldron of salt. Not just that, but filled with lots of salt that didn’t really want much peppering.

Ignored.

Constantly. At first I took it personal. Why on earth would these motherfuckers have the audacity to not respond back to me saying “hello.” These northern bastards. Then I realized that its part of the same shit we all do, even amidst times when we should have unity. We spend time noticing but not noticing one another as if to act like we don’t need to.

We have no unity. We have no unity when we’re unified and we have no unity when we should have unity and the opportunity exists. I don’t give a damn if I’ve never met you in life. If I walk into a KKK meeting and I see a Black cat you better believe I’m going to notice him since we have a common struggle.

Assuming I’m at a KKK meeting out common struggle is probably literally a struggle but hey, common is common.

Unless it’s Common Sense. Which is just not what it used to be.

That’s got a double meaning.

Sometimes I’ll go out of my way to speak to the other Negroes in a room. Of course, then we look like a gang which is never a good thing when you’re in the midst of a bunch of people who know how to dial 911 and aren’t afraid that 911 won’t result in action.

Our lack of unity — which is partially caused by our rise in social and economic status, face it, we don’t all have the same struggle anymore — is ultimately our downfall. We want equality but we all won’t even get on the same page in a room full of people who don’t look like us. Which is why Black people are fucked.

I only wish we’d notice.

I’ve long contended that Starbucks is the “man” that everybody claims is holding them back. I might have been slightly premature in my judgement as Apple and Steve Jobs just might be up making a strong case for that title.

And lo and behold, Apple and Starbucks work together. The fuckers.

Well, my love for Apple and iTunes in particular is a problem. Albums that I can’t find in stores or that I have to order from Japan are available so of course, I cop them spending my hard earned government dollars on them. Techonology at your fingertips is a dangerous dangerous thing.

Something I tend to do on occasion is read the reviews of albums that ordinary people like you and John Legend write on various albums. They range from stupid to pretty damn spot on and “professional”. Which brings me to the reviews written about Soulja Boy’s latest offering to the hip-hop canon, souljaboytellem.com.

You all know who Souljaboy is. He has the song “Souljaboy (Crank That)” and unless you’ve been living under a rock or sleeping with the enemy, you’ve heard it. A million times over. You’ve probably tried to do the dance until you realized it takes hours of practice and quite frankly you’re a grown ass man so why in the hell would you be spending hours of your grown ass man time practicing a dance made popular by a kid who’s t-shirt is 36 (chambers) sizes to big for him who doesn’t even do his own dance in his own video and who came up with a dance called the Roosevelt which is in no way related to either of the two presidents with that last name or anybody named Rose Svelt.

Also, is it just me or is this nigga not the most unintelligble motherfucker on the planet. Seriously, as an ATLien, even I can’t understand 90 percent of what he’s saying and I’ve been a translator for people who come to Atlanta. Perhaps I’ve been in DC too long but gotdamn. Somebody get that man a Hooked on Phonics book. STAT. Dude sounds like he ate Detroit.

Word to Rich Boy.

Now, I haven’t actually listened to the album and have no intention of doing so. His first song, though fun to listen to and dance to in the club, has left me with no desire whatsoever of listening to anything he may ever offer up of my own volition. Nope, if it comes on in the club then so be it. I’m held hostage to the confines of Sodom and Gomorrah’s offspring. However, I just might be alone seeing as no less than 400 people have written reviews of this man’s album on iTunes.

That means they listened to it. To the surprise of nobody but possibly Souljaboy himself, the reviews were largely terrible. There were quite a few people ( I actually read through the reviews) who seemed amazed that this is what passes for hip-hop today. A lot of the standard responses.

And to those people I ask:

Da fuck is wrong with you?

Were you REALLY listening to Souljaboy to find that good shit? Are you the same idiots who bought D4L (remember them?) and expected a musical smorgasbord of social commentary over luscious instrumentals that beckoned your emotional core…and got “Laffy Taffy” and “Betcha Can’t Do It Like Me” which required the musical talent of a 2-year old?

In fact, I’m slightly convinced (though I can’t prove it) that the producer of “Betcha Can’t Do It Like Me” stole the idea for the songs main riff from a child who was playing with his “My First Keyboard” toy from Toys ‘R Us (probably the online store since real stores suck balls).

Anybody who listens to Souljaboy and is disappointed needs to do us all a favor.

Kill yourself.

I can’t believe that people not only took the time to listen and be disappointed (at what? what gave you expectations) but to be disappointed enough to actually write a review asking for a rating system that allowed the user to award less than one star. Idiots.

I found myself laughing constantly at the reviews of bitter and disappointed fans or “fans” though I have to say I think that anybody who actually took the time to listen to Souljaboy’s album probably doesn’t really listen to rap anyway and more or less listens to the radio for all of their aural lessons in music. I ain’t judging. Do you.

However, I’m sticking up for Souljaboy on this one. What gives you fuckers the right to be disappointed by a nigga who wasn’t trying to give you expectations in the first place?! That’s just not fair. If anything, you should appreciate an artist who aspires to low expectations and provides you the kind of shit that you don’t have to actually listen to in order to appreciate it. The joy of artists like Souljaboy is that they don’t require you to think or posit any type of real emotion.

No, they just ask you to be present. And in this world of fatherless babies and single-mothers, isn’t being present all we should ask for? Why think when you can just stare into the stars courtesy of artists like Souljaboy. Sure you might get a little bit dumber but education is overrated anyway.

What gives you the right to think his album is bad when the only songs you have from him weren’t good in the conventional sense in the first place? Shame on you. It’s not like you were listening for depth. You can barely understand him. But there you fuckers go levying your own insecurities on a boy (he’s just a boy) who’s decided to make music that just requires you to be breathing.

Souljaboy is for the people. He doesn’t get deep so you don’t have to think. And that’s what the people want.

Souljaboy loves the kids. Because he is one.

And being “one” is hip-hop.

So you go Souljaboy. I might not listen to your album–ever–but I support your cause.

Now watch me YUUULLLLL, Souljaboy.

Watch me YULLLLLLL.