Even If It Ain't Sunny, Hey I Ain't Complain’n

I'm in the rain doing a buck 40 hydroplane’n

Live from Ernesto land! This will be a short post, in honor of Sonny Redd Appreciation Week. Friday is my birthday, but Friday is also Lucky’s day so I won’t address you again this week. Please, during the festivities of Sonny Redd Appreciation Week drink responsibly.

I’m going to stop by La Gloria Habana and pick up some fresh rolled stogies, grab a porterhouse at Morton’s (my favorite dish at my favorite restaurant. Rare, of course!), toss back a few glasses of Macallan’s (Ketel One and tonic is my day to day beverage, but a neat 12 or 15 year old scotch is for celebrations!), and just celebrate. See ya’ next week!

Can I Puff Cigars & Drink Cristal?

If this is heaven to me
is this considered heavenly?
Can I still touch lives
answer they "whats & whys"
[and] make sure
everybody in my fam' clutch five?

Yes indeed! As we proceed, to give you what you need! © 1987 Doug E. Fresh (Not as so many youngsters believe, P. Diddy, who gave the same opening in “Who Shot Ya” which if it was indeed a dis record, was the most vicious dis ever recorded. Sonny “Schoolin’ ya in the old school/Knowing he owes ya the completion on his top 10 Dis records of all time”Redd).

Happy Monday! How are ya feeling, good I hope! Me! Wonderful! It is the start of Sonny Redd Appreciation Week! As a result, my visits around the blogosphere will note such a momentous week. Be prepared.

Alrighty then, we have a lot to cover, and a little time to cover it, (as time is money and money is a major issue! And this is a M.I.A.M.I. or stupid ghetto acronym, a la Nelly’s P.I.M.P. Scholarship digression).

First, did you see 60 minutes yesterday? Can we say just the greatest episode ever? Okay, I’ll say it- Greatest Episode Ever. You had the Nagin fiasco, with a quite reasonable quote – “You guys in New York can’t get a hole in the ground fixed, and it’s five years later. So let’s be fair.” Perhaps the greatest thing Chocolate Milk ever said. (For the uninitiated, when Nagin was asked about his assertion in a speech that God himself wanted New Orleans to be a chocolate city [to which I queried, “Why? What’d we ever do to God?”] he elaborated, that he meant chocolate milk, that it takes white milk and Hersey’s [or Bosco! I loved Bosco as a kid] syrup to make a chocolate city. And this is a “honey, I forgot the milk” digression.) His further statements on the show-not so hot. New Orleans is still screwed.

Then, after an expose on stupid people – don’t you ever invest in anything that promises a 300% return – there was a piece on homosexuality which- forever- should bed the idea that homosexuality is genetic. See they showed two identical twins who each shared the same DNA and upbringing, and what did they find? One was straight and the other gay (not that there is anything wrong with that). In fairness they showed children of all ages who exhibit differing levels of fruitiness (not that there is anything wrong with that-Sonny“PC”Redd.) The point, dear readers, is that if identical twins can differ in sexuality – while you might be born that way, it ain’t in your genetic code. And again, I am right! Hahahaha!

And the righteousness continues! When last we met, I assigned homework. Given the fact that too many of you are lazy, some of youse haven’t done your homework. Let me make this simple, READ THIS ARTICLE! Damn! I know you rely on me to distill things for you, but you gotta meet me halfway.

Juan Williams, much maligned pundit and Fox News’ resident foil to Bill Cristol, wrote a piece entitled “Banish the Bling: A Culture of Failure Taints Black America” which ran in the Washington Post on August 21.

Williams argues that today’s “bling bling” generation has devolved into a “a culture steeped in bitterness and nihilism” which virtually assures its – rather our – collective failure. He further asserts that it is this lethargy that spurred Bill Cosby’s many rants on the cultural decline of Black people.

Now before I go any further, I should add that Juan Williams is persona non grata among the Civil Rights crowd. Williams’ day job as an analyst for Fox News does not ingratiate him to those who need to keep their eyes on the enemy. Because of that, I like him! He of course has shot back with a new book basically dissing Reverends Al and Jesse along with the rest of the gang. (And when rappers dis each other, we act like this is some aberration. Nah dog, intellectuals been doing it for years! And this is a pointing out the obvious digression.)

But back to the matter at hand, the pervasive argument – that Williams didn’t originate, he merely parrots – is that this “bling” is a terrible thing. And it is. But lets lay the blame where it belongs, shall we?

Way back in the day – the late 1800’s to the early 1900’s to be (somewhat) exact – there were two lines of thought as to the “Black problem” in America. One, championed by Booker T. Washington was a purely economic solution. The other, offered by the father of the NAACP, W.E.B. Dubois was a social solution.

Washington told black people, “Stop asking whitey for shit, and be diligent hard workers. Cash will do the rest.” Now in fairness, stop asking for shit included asking for civil and human rights. Washington envisioned a world where black people would be the backbone of the country – in every realm – trades, crafts, labor, academics, and finally the professions. In the meanwhile, we should work to be self sufficient, in short support our own businesses and our own economies. (I think right now, there is a dreadlocked black man who smells like incense and needs a shave – likely named Brother Raheem, or some such, who is spouting the same damn thing. But I do digress, and I do it so well!)

Dubois on the other hand, being the Harvard educated academic that he was, said that to toil this way was (channeling my inner Mike Tyson) ludicrous! Dubois wanted equal rights now! And not only equal rights for Black folk, but equal rights for all oppressed people! (Dubois would later die a socialist, but what academic doesn’t?)

Well, Washington’s camp – derisively referred to as “Toms” would lose the struggle – perhaps rightfully – to Dubois and his agitators. But, at what price comes victory?

Fast forward 40 years, and a young upstart (with a smokin’ wife) named Martin Luther King, (after his daddy, of course. Sonny”Yeah my first born son will be Sonny Junior”Redd) merged the “work the system” philosophies of Washington (Ghandi-who?) and the agitation philosophy of Dubois, to form a kindler gentler movement. The result? He was too soft for the true agitators (see Malcolm X) and too hard for the Booker-ites. But the man got results. And in this society, results are all that matters.

Well upon his murder, these two sides saw a power vacuum. And they raced to fill it. On this side, you had the Panthers, the Muslims, the 5%ers, the Nationalists, Stokely Carmichael, and the communists. We’ll call them the “Black Power” crowd.

And on the other side you had…

Um…

Let’s see…

Uh…

Oh, that’s it! There was nobody. The social movement crowd completely obliterated the economic crowd. And it makes sense, the glue that held the two together, King, was murdered. And the Black Power crowd had that fact, the murder of Fred Hampton and the Vietnam War to rail against.

So the 60’s and 70’s were seen as a time of economic hopelessness for Black people. Nihilism was in, but not the hedonistic nihilism of hip-hop. Nope. The idea of economic hope was what was missing. Coincidentally, the same hopelessness permeated throughout American culture at the time.

And then the 80’s hit! Money was being made on Wall Street, in defense contracting, cocaine and in a new thingy called computers. But what was Black America prepared to do? Certainly not rake in the dough on the “man’s” stock market. And since folks were so busy getting Afro-American studies degrees, there were no real computer scientists to be had. Nope. That left one thing, cocaine.

And the coke legends from the 80’s -- Rayful Edmonds, Azie, Rich Porter, Fat Cat, Supreme, Alpo, Aaron Jones, Harry-O (Sonny"whenever someone googles these folks, they need to come here and learn something"Redd)– became replacements for C.J. Walker, Booker T. Washington and John H. Johnson. And today they remain the figures of Black success – captured in physical form by Puffy, Jay-Z and 50 Cent.

So excuse me Mr. Juan Williams if I say that you are only partly correct. There is a large segment of the Black community that values “bling.” But their valuation of “bling” is less an indication of moral decline, but is rather an affirmation that we have tired of being viewed as hopeless. If our educated class has failed us – which it has – in its belief that they have all those degrees and money, and are still “niggers” who are oppressed, then what is the point of all that learning and striving? It is a logical question. Its answer is even more evident, we get high, fuck bitches and cop a Bentley. No point going through that obvious hell of interacting with – and *gasp* being oppressed by – whitey. Ain’t no pot of gold at the end of that rainbow. So what is the point?

I suppose that there is indeed a pervasive nihilism among today’s generation of Black people. But, Juan Williams, it isn’t the hopelessness of hip-hop. It is the hopelessness and despair of the Black middle class, which has convinced their lower-class brethren that the ghetto is where it is at. Po’ folks indeed have it good. After all, po’ folk can be themselves – in all their 22” rimmed out gold toothed glory. Ours is the only people who envy our poor.

Thus, it is clear that the problem isn’t that the Black lower-class can’t or won’t be led from poverty. The problem is that those they would look towards ain’t up to the job. And in that way, perhaps they are right.

There is a reason why I love Jay-Z so much. He is the only rapper to really address – in album after album – what the middle class needed to hear. That it isn’t moral leadership that is missing in the ghetto, it’s economic leadership. And if it ain’t gonna be a doctor or a lawyer providing such ledership, then in the words of Jay-Z, its gonna be “the first dude to cop the 850 in '89 and drove it up to 55th..." Cause right about now, that's the only cat who is providing ledership.

Long As I Know That I'm blessed And I’m Loved In Depth

I can walk through water
and not get wet

Alright-“Here it is! Bam! And you say, Gotdam! This is a dope jam!” It’s Wednesday, a.k.a. Hump Day, a.k.a. Odin’s Day (look it up! Heathen genius digresson!) and should be known as Sonday the Sequel (with Monday being the Original Sonday. Sonny “I post on Monday and Wednesday-Lucky gets Friday”Redd.) So today you are blessed with my words.

Today, I – like every other upwardly mobile black person (who paid their cable bill) on Earth – will discuss Hurricane Katrina. Of course, Spike Lee’s “When the Levees Broke-A Requiem in Four Acts” had nothing to do with today’s topic. Because I didn’t really want to write about Juan Williams’ piece on bling in the Washington Post. Nope. Not at all. (That was foreshadowing kiddies. I’m clever that way. Here -Read this when your done here, so that I can educate on Monday – but do not opine! I swear, I will edit y’alls comments if it is about that Juan Williams piece, that you really should read – and process – so that we can discuss it, on Monday. I’m serious, man.)

So, I watched 4 hours of Katrina. I’m going to be brutally honest here. And some of y’all ain’t gonna like it. Katrina wasn’t about color. Katrina was about class. I am truly and thoroughly convinced that Katrina – and all her horribleness (except that Gretna police shit. That was some racist bullshit! Sonny “Free Huey!”Redd.)

Let’s start at the beginning.

Okay, I’ll admit I have never thought very much of New Orleans. I ain’t feeling this whole Creole shit. Let me give you a little background. See, them there Creoles in New Orleans never really considered themselves black. In fact, they tried to opt out of being black entirely. Took the case all they way to the U.S. Supreme Court in Plessy v. Ferguson.

See, your boy Plessy, a Creole, argued that he didn’t look like a nigga, and had only 1/8 Black blood (let’s do the math, he had one great grand parent who was Black. The other 7 great grands were White), so as a result he didn’t have to move from his seat on the train into the negro train car. Putting aside the fact that somebody though his ass looked Black enough to move (an obvious point), he basically wanted the government to declare that 1/8th Black (and more importantly, Creoles) wasn’t black.

He lost. And law students the world over are told about how Plessy is a Civil Rights case. Plessy wasn’t nothing but a “opt-out” case, and I point it out to show you how the game is played in Louisiana. (And this whole thing is a “Gee, I guess I really do hate Louisiana” digression.)

So the Mayor is saying “We need some God damn troops!” and the police chief is saying “They raping babies, man!” Not a good look. As Nina would say I would say, “Them niggas wet, hot, and sweaty. And that’s not ballin’ to me!”

There were 4 fundamental mistakes made in the handling of the Katrina aftermath:

1) The election of Kathleen Blanco
2) The over reliance on the Federal Government
3) The undeniable panic of the City Government
4) The scattering of the population to the four winds

First, Kathleen Blanco. This bitch played politics, and if she wins re-election (she plans to run in 2007) then the folks in Louisiana are dumber than I give them credit for being (and I give them a lot of credit.) First, she had $130 million in aid prior to the storm. That money was already there! The President (who hates black people) had authorized the funds BEFORE the storm. Not to mention, aid from neighboring states (namely New Mexico, which offered its National Guard) was either not accepted, or accepted late. Then, Bush (who I am shocked I am defending) flew down on Air Force One and offered her troops. His condition – the troops hit New Orleans first (hates black people). She rejected it. Now, I don’t claim to know much, but I’d bet that Louisiana is a lot like Florida in one (many) respect(s). Namely, that the voting pattern of its largest city often differs from the voting pattern of the rest of the state. I am inclined to belives that the bitch said – I gotta help the rest of my sate if I am to be Governor again. Further, she’s the one who declared that looters should be shot and killed. Oh, and she hates Ray “Chocolate milk city”Nagin. Somebody was playing (racial) poli-tricks, and I can’t say it was W.

Reliance of the Feds. You know, it kills me how folks over rely on the Feds. You want to know what FEMA will give me if a hurricane sweeps through South Florida? A $15,000.00 SBA loan. And the SBA is the Small Business Administration. Yep. That’s what we-you-me-all of us, are entitled to. And it’s a loan, to boot. Gotta pay that shit back. Be ready people.

Panic of Government. The Hurricane hit and everyone panicked. Generally, panic occurs only among the populace – the citizens. But here, the panic was so widespread-so complete – that the fucking police chief (a black man who I am sure considers himself Creole-or Indian-or some shit other than a nigga, cause if you ask niggas from New Orleans, there ain’t no niggas in New Orleans. Did you guys notice that New Orleans got the blackest Indians on the fucking planet? Da Hale? © Hostess 2005. Sonny “Social Commentary”Redd.) starts crying outside of the Superdome because, and I quote, “they’re raping babies in there, man!” Now, I know I ain’t from New Orleans, but if the Police Chief says that niggas in the “N-O” are so go hard that they rape infants, then I can’t say as though I’d want them crossing my bridge to my suburb either. (Fuck you anyway Gretna!).

So first we got this nigga with a badge screaming that niggas is raping babies. And he is screaming this on national fucking TV, mind you, and it’s the fucking Government’s fault that your ass is stuck in the Superdome, with the baby rapers? I think not. Your city was fucked up long before it started raining, and y’all niggas didn’t want to admit it.

What people need in an emergency is calm. I understand that folks are dying, and we need to mourn, but we mourn AFTER we save the living. Not before. We save the living and mourn for the dead. These fuckers were mourning the dead and fearing death so much that they said “fuck the living.” And Ray Nagin deserves “the credit” for that. If you can’t rally your team, how you gonna quarterback? I need a leader who is calm, so I can be calm. You panic, I’m out. (Mental note, folks this works at home too. If you fall apart every time some shit goes wrong, then folks are gonna hate having your ass around. Sonny “And now you know” Redd.)

The scattering of the citizens. Now I don’t blame the good people of(who are not niggas, cause there ain’t none in) New Orleans for leaving. Shit, I don’t even blame Barbara Bush for pointing out the obvious, “You’re out of fucking New Orleans! You are a lucky bastard!” That shit wasn’t racist, that shit was true. Barb said, “Shit, I suppose being broke in Texas beats being broke in Louisiana.” That’s shit is funny to me. And if I said, “being broke in Philly beats being broke in Miami”, its not because I hate Cubans (it’s not?)—it’s because (it’s true? No…) I rep my town. Barb reps Texas. Leave her ass alone. Shit was funny to me.

But, to rebuild New Orleans, New Orleanders need to be there. How they gonna be there if they’re in fucking Utah (that broad was living fat, but how many of y’all peeped that she’s renting –not owning- her slice of Mormon laced heaven?), again not that I blame her. But they were in such a hurry to evacuate the city (Ray Nagin) that they forgot, it’s cheaper to get niggas tents and port-a-potties. Did you see the drunk white chicks (the one that was phat to death [for a 40 year old white chick] and her mephed out friend, with their beer cozies?) how great were they?) If the people are there, they can assist in the rebuild. Trust me, the Red Cross/Salvation Army/Habitat for Humanity are bursting at the seams with weekend do-gooders who toil in offices like mine Monday-Friday and would love nothing more than to feed and clothe a negro family on the weekend (largely because then they would have something to discuss with me on Monday. “See Sonny, I’m not like George Bush, I care about black people.” (As an aside, I have been congratulated more this week for Tiger Woods’ PGA win this weekend. I’m like, “Do I look caublanasian to you, bitch?” Kidding. Actually, I love it.)

The point is, you keep those folks close to home if you hope to rebuild the city. Do the math-pay a local to clear debris. Said local invests said earning into rebuilding his home, or renting one rebuilt, said owners are encouraged to hurry along rebuilding, more locals needed to clear debris. See the cycle? Not complicated at all.

So, not to be a Negetive Nancy (or a Katty Katrina…Pun? Me? Never!) I am giving out another “Geroge” today to the unsung hero of Katrina, Lt. General Russel Honroe who held it down and showed the world all us pale negroes ain’t bitches. (Although, I will ignore for now his Creole-ness. After all, the government does. Sonny “Plessy” Redd.) Seriously, between him, Colin Powell and myself, I figure the only hope for Black people are us light skinned (we not in right now, but we making a comeback) dictatorial types. Furthermore, the lack of media coverage he recieved has renewed my faith in a media conspiracy against Black folks. God forbid we be shown doing anything other than looting. Bravo. (Although, in a bout of intellectual honesty, I am aware that his job was easier than Nagin's.)

And I am handing a Weezy to [NinaMM Motherfuckin' edit-Thanks Nina!] Phyllis Montana LeBlanc, a.k.a. the broad in the show who told how she was gonna “beat that bitch ass in the airport”. Her Weezy is for delivering the most memorable line in the whole four hours, “You know how they say ‘go back to Africa’? I’ont wanna go anywhere near Africa if it anything like this shit!” That’s right baby, that shit wasn’t ballin’ to me either.

[George and Weezy] Award Winner

Ballin repeatedly,
Highlights on Sportscenter
Please repeat after me –
There's only one rule
I WILL NOT, LOSE!

What’s the deal! Yo, we are creeping ever closer to SonnyRedd Appreciation Week, which begins next Monday and concludes with my born day on Friday September 1st! Get ready.

This episode of the Fell Clutch is the Moving On Up episode. (For the real innanets geeks, that’s Episode #106. Sonny “Yeah I hit 100 posts and aint even tell y’all cause I’m gully that way”Redd.) So today we celebrate those getting they George and Weezy on! Who else misses the Jeffersons? It was such a great show. (By the way, Sherman Hemsley? Can you say “Philly Stand Up”? Born in 1938 in Philadelphia! And this is a “yeah, I know its over, but so what, I still appreciate Philly” digression.) So today and for the rest of the year – hell, until I tire of it as an ongoing bit – I am handing out George and Weezy Awards to those deserving folks “Moving on up!”

So first, congratulations to Tiger Woods, who won this third PGA championship this weekend! Holding it down for caublanisians everywhere. You getting your George on! (or your Ang Lee. Whatever.) And congrats also to Kimora Simmons who may or may not be taking half from Russell Simmons. I see you getting your Weezy! Half breeds getting theirs! Yeah!

Also Ayaan Hirsi Ali, the outspoken critic of Islam and a former member of the Dutch Parliament (before being deported for lying on her Dutch application for asylum) was on 60 Minutes last night. She gets a Weezy for having a phat ass. Thank you. That is all. (I wonder if noticing her “phat-to-death-ness” qualifies as oppression. I find that feminism believes that all appreciation of the female body amount to oppression. And this is a “I’m a chauvinist pig” digression.)


I have a busy week this week – but the reader will NOT be denied! © Star 2005. Today, there will be random “Hustle Notes.” The first note is to never let your hobby overtake your profession.

Next, please, please, please don’t be like all too many black business people. Too frequently I refer a party out to another black business person. It is the nature of business. If I know someone who needs your service, and you’re black, I’ll refer them to you – only if you are competent. Don’t have me make a referral to you and you not follow up. Because I will follow-up. And I will find out of your failure. And then, you and me have a problem. And I am an annoying nigga to have problems with.

The lesson to you, my readers? Always follow up. It is important to your reputation to follow up. The worst part of all this, this nigga lost MINIMALLY a couple of grand. All because broke niggas is to busy playing businessman. You will be exposed! (The real value of the matter referred? Close to $175,000.00. The upside, The ball is back in my court AND I was referred a client [by said shiftless negro] whose matter is worth considerably more. Sonny “And some folks wonder why they broke” Redd.) Always follow up!

Also, a free legal tip for the week:

A complaint for damages is meaningless. All to often, poor people receive legal pleadings and hole up hoping that it will go away. It won’t. If you have to work, send a letter to the Judge (and a copy to opposing counsel) stating that fact. Get a lawyer, or if you (likely) can’t afford one, contact a pro-bono attorney. You can find them at your local bar association’s website. But if you do nothing, that meaningless complaint will become a judgment against you. Never good.

And the final George of the week goes to my barber! He dropped off the face of the planet for a while, and I thought he was locked up. Turns out he was cutting at a lil’ hole in the wall. Well, he has signed a lease on his own shop! That’s hustle! Next stop, getting that nigga set up in a LLC (that’s Limited Liability Corporation). And guess who gets that cash? Yes indeed! I love seeing folks better themselves. I love helping them along. And I really love being able to “wet my beak” at the same time.

Progress! You gotta love it.

Now, duty calls. More on Wednesday!

I Got This Spanish Chica, She Don't Like Me To Roam

So she call me "cabron" Plus "mi Amore"
Said she likes to cook rice, so she likes me at home
I'm like, "Un momento - mami, slow up your tempo"

This part is for me…

Happy Birthday Pop! You catching Tony Randall years bout’ now, aren’t you? You have no idea in how many ways you have influenced me, some for the better—some not. But you are one inspirational dude, and as everyone who has had the misfortune to talk to me knows, you are my idol!

Moving on-

Random question of the day- Is Fidel Castro dead yet? And, more importantly, if he dies tomorrow can anybody – the CIA, the Cuban exiles in Miami, the Kennedys – claim victory? That nigga been running Cuba for 47 years man, 47 years! Shit, niggas can’t teach in the public schools longer than 25. Nigga had stomach cancer and was puffing a Cohiba on TV the next day. I ain’t fucking with Fidel. He harder than Fiddy.

And another random thought, if “the Beard” can smoke stoogies for 47 years while being a dictator, how unhealthy is tobacco? Or, is it that Cuban tobacco that keeps you ticking? Like, when Ponce de Leon was looking for the fountain of youth in Florida, did he miscalculate by, say…90 miles?

Moving on, redux-

I like Puerto Rican food (another random thought! And this is a “can you tell I gots nothing?” digression). When I was 12, the kid downstairs was named Puerto Rican Jose. (Well, his momma didn’t name him Puerto Rican Jose, the streets did. But there was a reason. See, Puerto Rican Jose was…Puerto Rican! See, the streets be making sense when you think about it!) Puerto Rican Jose had a older brother who was also named Puerto Rican Jose. Or maybe it was Puerto Rican Carlos, I don’t really remember. Anyhow, (that was a “back story” digression, btw) Puerto Rican Jose’s mother, whose name I don’t recall, possibly because she ain’t have no name, made the best Spanish Rice ever. I ain’t really get with all that damn pork – but the rice was banging!

There is a point here. I live in Miami. Do you know there isn’t a fucking Puerto Rican restaurant in the whole damn town. We got Brazillian, Peruvian, Cuban (of course) but no Puerto Rican. Like, if a motherfucker swam over, or got washed ashore, he can open a restaurant (and sell $15 Vodka Tonics to boot), but if you fly over, no haps!

Alright, I got nothing again.

Um, here is where I get deep on y’all. Usually. Today…um…

Um…

Um…

Yeah…

Nope. That’s it.

Though, since it is (apparently) Puerto Rican (rice) Day here at the Fell Clutch (see what a motherfucker will do for some good rice), I thought I’d post a video by the great Puerto Rican poet, Gordo Jose, a.k.a. Fat Joe. Though, before I do that, I thought I’d mention that it is truly ironic that PoppaRedd’s birthday post would be jacked by Puerto Ricans. The irony? (aside from the droll Puerto Ricans steal things? Duh! Too obvious. Sonny “O’Henry-and if you think it’s a candy bar read a book”Redd) GrandmaRedd HATES Puerto Ricans. (Yes! I come from a long line of hate! Hahahahaha!) She’s old school that way. Like in a West Side Story, don’t bring home no Rican’ kind of way. Old folks. Don’t ‘cha love ‘em?

As another aside (and you Georgia and DC folks can’t relate)-

Do my east coast folks know that motherfucker around y’alls way who swore they was Puerto Rican? You know, that nigga who even had the accent? But his last name is like “Smith” or “Jones”?


Like these two "chicas" right here. I swear, everybody wanna say it, but nobody wanna be it. Niggas! That shit kills me. Always has. You know the one on the left is just outta Senegal. She don't look like she seen any rice, 'cept that UN Aid rice they throw outta planes.

My step-dad (who was part Cuban, a whole 'nother post) used to call Puerto Ricans, "Spanish Speakin' Spades." But I like Puerto Ricans. Carlito's Way (the original) was a good movie. And, they are less uppity as far Latinos go. And in reality, white folk hate Puerto Ricans as much as they hate us. Even more -- cause Puerto Ricans look like Mexicans, but they don't pick no vegetables.

Carry on. The Empire will resume conquest on Friday (hopefully! Henchmen taking vacations! Who ever heard of such?) Enjoy the Video!

Ya Don’t Got Heart For This Art Of War

My arsenal is more awesome than y’alls
When [Son’s] in the building
Niggas lost from the door
From the front porch cause I have no flaws
And y’all keep acting like y’all don’t hear
I’ll put this little [Redd thought] in ya ear…

It’s MONDAY!!! And you know what that means—jewels of thought and pearls of wisdom from ya’ boy. Man, I got more finery than Tiffany’s and I’m more precious than Harry Winston! Fuck Jacob the Jeweler, Sonny keeps ya’ shining! (And I do it without getting indicted on money laundering charges, or selling ya’ fugazi stones for ya’ll to give to ya’ll ex-baby mommas. My shit is genuine. And this is a “ghetto news you can use” digression.)

And Son will shine clearly! Look, I first must reiterate, y’all niggas need to get to voting. That shit is over on the 15th and I can’t have y’all acting on Cee-Pee time, seeing as our hard work feeds on recognition. RECOGNITION! Do it now! NOW!

Next, I watched ATL this weekend. While I state for the record that that was 2 hours I will never get back, I do recognize 2 things. (1) ATL’s main character is your average black man in America. He doesn’t sell drugs and he works hard; and (2) if the children of today watch it on rewind as much as I watched New Jack City and Menace II Society, perhaps we will see an improvement in 10 years. (Sonny “I’m no hater”Redd.)

Moving on. President Bush recently announced that “This nation is at war with Islamic Fascists who will use any means to –to destroy those of us who love freedom…”

What fucking freedom? Certainly not the Constitutional freedom that we all previously enjoyed.

Ben Franklin once quipped that, (and I’m paraphrasing) “those who would give up freedom for security deserve neither.”

But here we fucking are, neither free nor secure. Folks running around throwing out their leave in conditioner and cucumber melon lotions cause Ahmed’nem got a point to prove. Fuck them, fuck that, and fuck all y’all that are that damn afraid that y’all are with them.

Let me clarify something, once and for fucking all (Can you tell that I am pissed?) Al Qaeda does not want to “destroy freedom.” (At least not in the “W” sort of way.)

First, when Al Qaeda blew up the towers, they did so for one simple reason – advertisement. It was the ultimate recruitment video. Let’s remember what Al Qaeda is people. Al Q is the “Black Panther Party” of the middle east. They are a non-governmental organization which seeks to advance a political position in the Middle East. Nothing more, nothing less.

Now Al Q’s position that it wants to advance is Militant Islam, or keeping it academic, governmental Islam. Make no mistake. And Militant/governmental Islam hates the United States, make no mistake about that either, but its goal is the advancement of Militant Islam in the Arab world. Not, as your President suggests, destroying the freedom of the USA. I am so thoroughly disgusted with the constant belaboring of the catch phases and buzzwords. Don’t be misled. Blowing up shit here is only worth while if it makes Al Q look bigger over there. Thus, the “plots” to blow up the Prudential Building in Newark (election day set-up) or the Sears Tower in Chicago (negro set-up) weren’t really plots worth while because nobody in Beirut has heard of the Prudential Building in Newark (If only because very few folks outside of Newark have heard of it, Sonny “Stating the obvious”Redd), and them Sears Tower niggas did it for $50K and some Timbs (I’m still mad ‘bout that).

Remember, Al Q is competing against other Islamic factions. There’s Hamas, Hezbollah, Islamic Jihad and I’m sure countless other random AK-47 toting posses of all shapes and sizes. Al Q has to remain relevant to attract recruits.

Compare



with












See the connection? Gotta stay cool to reach the kids. Both here, and in “Jihad-Jihad” land.

If Al Q’s goal was to disrupt life in the US, a few truck bombs during rush hour, a suicide bombing at a mall during Christmas, a few commuter train bombing ala the UK and we Americans would be a quivering mess. Hell, we’d probably be interning every Muslim in the country by now. Not to say that that’s not indeed where we’re heading.

But consider for a moment Timothy McVeigh? Remember him? He blew the shit out of the Oklahoma Federal Building back in 1995. Well, do you remember, besides hatred for “niggers and jews,” why he wanted to blow up the Federal building?

I chose to bomb a federal building because such an action served more purposes than other options. Foremost, the bombing was a retaliatory strike; a counter attack, for the cumulative raids (and subsequent violence and damage) that federal agents had participated in over the preceding years (including, but not limited to, Waco.) From the formation of such units as the FBI's "Hostage Rescue" and other assault teams amongst federal agencies during the '80's; culminating in the Waco incident, federal actions grew increasingly militaristic and violent, to the point where at Waco, our government - like the Chinese - was deploying tanks against its own citizens.

Knowledge of these multiple and ever-more aggressive raids across the country constituted an identifiable pattern of conduct within and by the federal government and amongst its various agencies. (see enclosed) For all intents and purposes, federal agents had become "soldiers" (using military training, tactics, techniques, equipment, language, dress, organization, and mindset) and they were escalating their behavior. Therefore, this bombing was also meant as a pre-emptive (or pro-active) strike against these forces and their command and control centers within the federal building. When an aggressor force continually launches attacks from a particular base of operation, it is sound military strategy to take the fight to the enemy.
McVeigh's April 27, 2001 Letter to Rita Cosby

Let me get this straight, Tim McVeigh chose to blow up a Federal building because he felt that the government was taking away the rights of Americans. And today, we give away freedoms to ensure our collective safety from the Tim McVeighs of the world -- and no one else thinks this absurd?

So, today I ask you -- Do those who would give up liberty to purchase a little safety, deserve either liberty or safety?

What say you?

Pound For Pound I'm The Best To Ever Come Around Here

Excludin’ nobody, look what I embody
The soul of a hustler, I really ran the street
A CEO's mind, that marketing plan was me
…
But the real shit you get when you bust down my lines
Add that to the fact I went plat' a bunch of times
Times that by my influence on [blog] culture
I'm supposed to be number one on everybody list

Alright, you know what it is…PHILLY STAND UP!

As evidenced by the lack of one of them fany-dancy haikus, IT’S YA BOY! How happy are y’all? I know. I know.

Yeah, Lucky is on vacation. Vacation. Mind you, I ain’t on vacation. Lucky is. Students taking vacations, damn what’s next?

I need y’all to do something for me. If not me, then for Lucky. We need one of those Black Weblog Awards…cause we do. We feel that if 3-6 can win an Oscar, we should have one of them fancy awards too, cause that’s whats hot in the streets. And since awards is hot in the streets, and we hot in the street, we need an award to retain our hotness! (Although we note that we were already voted the top Black Blogger by the Stokholm Chapter of the Philly ex-pat community, and I am eyeing a similar title from the London chapter…)

So, it is heavily suggested (requested) that you nominate us is any (or all) of the following categories…

Best Original Content
Best Political/News
Best Topical Blog
Best Writing in a Blog
(For this one right here)
(or here)
(or, begrudgingly here)
Blog of the Year
Blog to Watch
“Best Evil Villian/Henchman Team or Duo” (okay, that’s not really a category, but it should be. It should be.)

So click here to vote. Vote or Die!

As we draw Philly Appreciation Week to a close, we want to thank all those who participated, and all those who had to endure comments on their sites like… “It becomes apparent that the rise in the stock market is attributable to … PHILLY STAND UP!”

I am sure I looked an utter ass the whole time. (Hostess.) But it was worth it, and it was fun. And in the end, all that matters is you have fun. Niggas ain’t having enough fun. Some (most) of y’all taking yourselves (and me) too damn seriously. And such stress leads to hypertension (a dramatic threat to the black community. And this is an edu-tainment digression.)

So let’s run things down-

1. The Plane Bombing Plot- The word Al Qaeda keeps getting bandied about. If ghetto is the new nigger (see Wednesday’s post), Al Qaeda is the new “Crazy Muslim.” (Like, when you go to buy your Egyptian Musk, and the dude won’t give you 3 for $25.00, you’d chalk it up to Al Qaeda.) But we now know that there is Hamas, Hezbollah, dem’ crazy “ghettos” in Miami who wanted to blow up the Sears Tower for 50k, a Hummer with 22’s and some Timbs (the only thing missing was a white woman, like “where de’ white wimmin and fried chicken at?”). I ain’t scared, mostly cause I’ve grown weary of this shit. But the best part of this, besides making gas cheaper, is the that the terror alert level is now Bert, with Ernie and Elmo highlights.

2. I watched the final 75 minutes of Flava of Love. This bitch shit on the floor. THE FLOOR! One must wonder, how many times has she had a bottle shoved in her rectum for her bowels to be THAT loose? And Flave ain’t got a downstairs bathroom? Damn.

3. Cynthia Mckinney – Ding Dong the witch is dead!

4. The Eagles – Looking good. Looking damn good!

5. Invader Zim is my shit.

That’s it. I’m out. GO VOTE NOW!

PHILLY STAND UP!

I Scramble Like Randall With His

Cunningham
But the only thing runnin is numbers fam
[Sonny] held you down [all summer] damn
Where's the love?

Philly Stand Up! I tell ya, isn’t this the best week ever? Why yes, yes it is! And why shouldn’t it be? It’s Philly Appreciation Week all over the globe! Yes I said the GLOBE! NAH-MEAN?!?!

And when I say global, I mean all over the world! First, the fire is spreading! I got Sweden repping the 215! Stockholm Stand Up! I got Miami repping the 215! Philly in Miami! (I wonder if the store is still open! If not, there’s always me. Me! Sonny “I like my me-time”Redd!) I got Virginia repping the 215! I see ya, Glory. And I gots the whole damn blogosphere screaming Philly Stand Up!

Today’s action items…further Philly fanaticism (Sonny “alliteration” Redd); a bet (yes, your boy will continue his global dominance by winning a wager, cause that’s what I do. Sonny “Damn he’s a cocky bastard” Redd); and some of that educational shit that y’all seem to appreciate. You all tucked in? Heerrreee we go!

First rappers to win a Grammy rep where? First rapper to get a TV deal, from where? Teddy Pendergrass reps where? Neo-Soul is from where? The “transformer scratch” was invented where? Gangsta Rap has its roots where? (P.S.K. we making that green. People always ask what the hell does that mean? Sonny “Don’t make me school ya’ with a hint”Redd.) Wilt Chamberlain played ball with which of your favorite Blogger’s father, dated said blogger’s aunt (and no she isn’t among the infamous 20,000. And this is a “that’s my story and I’m sticking to it” digression.) and repped where? Few more just for shits and giggles- Patti LaBelle, Sly Stallone and the great Bill Cosby! I said, the great Bill Cosby!

Now why is it Philly Appreciation Week? Simple. As the great negro poet LL Cool J once remarked, “It’s the sport of kings. Better than diamond rings. Football. Football.” Yes, it is football season!

I love football season. For one thing, men around the world become smarter during football season. I suppose, like Christmas, it is a happy time of year where folks greet their neighbors. For the remainder of the year, men will be of good cheer. “Hey Bob” becomes “Hey Bob, some touchdown last night.”

And, for malevolent pricks like myself, it allows me the opportunity to say, “Bob, I saw your guy choke on that interception. Youse fucking suck! (oh, and your Mom’s a whore, too!)” (Okay the second thought doesn’t often get uttered. But when you meet fans of certain teams, it brings the best out of you. And this is a “Thank God the summer is over and we can get back to what matters…Football” digression.)

And of course Football season means one thing; say it with me now…E-A-G-L-E-S! EAGLES! Or, as we affectionately (and somewhat ignorantly) call them Iggles! Go Iggles!

And in the spirit of this momentous occasion, I have proffered a wager of sorts to a fan of the most vile creatures that God has ever saw fit to allow to roam His land. I SonnyRedd, proud fan of the noble and mighty Philadelphia Eagles, have bet Diva-in-Demand, poor misguided soul who heard the lure of Satan himself and pledged her loyalty (and her soul because I’m telling you, Jerry Jones has been dead for 15 years. That bastard must be a vampire. Sonny “Buffy the Jerry Jones Slayer”Redd.) to the disgusting, vile, villainous, revolting Dallas Cowboys. But, dear readers, you mustn’t be too hard on her. Pity her for being misguided, but forgiver her, for she knows not what she does.

But we will show her the error of her ways. When we win, the Diva herself will be a guest blogger on this very page, to proclaim not only the dominance of the mighty Iggle Nation, but the greatness of your’s truly.

And, should the unthinkable happen (like every single man on the Iggles Roster get struck with polio, and be unable to play, cause that is the only shot she got) and the Cowboys beat the Eagles…well, I’ll do the same on her page.

So true believers, twice this year, the Diva herself will come and sing my praises, and the praises of the Iggles! Isn’t that great! (and a note to any of y’all half-witted Giants or Redskins fans, oh I mean Midgets and Deadskins fans…you want some of this, just come see me Ak! Name and url in the comments. You know what it is! Early!)

Wow. Y’all excited, cause I know I am. Now, on to the meat and potatoes.

So I saw the first 15 minutes of Flava of Love. I watched it for merely 15 minutes. I then paused, rewound and watched the same 15 minutes no less than 37 times. I haven’t seen any more than the first 15 minutes. I will watch the other 75 minutes at some point, but after spending 3 hours watching the same 15 minutes, the other 75 minutes have to be a let down. If you haven’t seen it, well…I am going to ruin the first 15 minutes of Flava of Love for you. You will have 75 uninterrupted minutes. Let me know how they turn out.

If you are unfamiliar with the show, it is a game show that pits “worthy women” against one another for the job of Flava Flav’s baby momma. Now given that Flava (who is NOT from Philly, yet another reason for Philly to STAND UP!) already has a coupla ex-baby mommas and one of them is a 6’7” white woman who is also Sly Stallone’s ex-baby momma (and there is your Philly connection) he invited an eclectic mix of young women, trailer trash, ex-skrippers, current skrippers, aspiring video hoes and negresses to vie for his affections. Well, women of such caliber need be housed, so he also has them living under one roof.

Upon their arrival, the ladies begin to find their beds. Because the show is a game of elimination, they find that there are too few beds for them. And that is when it gets good. As a student of anthropology, I took keen interest in the following events and recap them for you in scientific prose. (Think National Geographic special).

The trailer trash mark their territory by jumping on beds. As a trailer trash finds a bed, she and her stilettos must jump on it. Sleeping on beds is a new experience for many breeds of trailer trash, as they often sleep on futons, or in the back seat of a ‘76 Camaro, as the case may be. And here, the case was no different.

Unfortunately, a negress – in her prime and straight out of San Quentin Penitentiary – was also marking territory. The negress, resplendent in her mane of $800.00 worth of Asian children’s hair, marks her territory by rubbing her (ample…she was phat to def!) ass upon the bedspread. Negresses often display this behavior – some researches hypothesize that the negress does this to acclimate herself to an empty bed. Later in life she will replace this behavior with the acquisition of a freshly released felon – and later still, three to four children who all share her bed.

And there we were, trailer-trash and a negress, competing for the same bed. There were exchanges of “bitch” between the two, and then…not unexpectedly, the negress proceeded to maul the trailer trash. And by “maul” I mean, “Whup dat trick!” (a.k.a. You’re fuckin’ done, Son! Or the ever popular, “You got knocked the fuck out!”)

One thorough ass whipping and two cut scenes later, we are greeted by a gracious negress who offers her defeated foe some chapstick. The sharing of chapstick is an age old negress custom, and is known to be a gesture of friendship. The trailer trash, sensing a trap, un-wisely refuses.

And then the negress, who like all negresses, is very religious, offers amends to the negress gods by praying. As all negress prayers begin, she remarks of the demons in the world and their devilish ways. And then the following exchange takes place:

Negress: Lord, forgive me for beating this bitch ass today lord. And lord please forgive me for thinking about beating this bitch ass again, lord

Trailer Trash: Is that really necessary?

Negress: Girl, you better quit interrupting my prayers before god direct me to whip yo ass!

And ladies and gents, I ‘bout lost my mind. If that isn’t the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life. This is why I don’t date negresses, no matter how phat they are. They will whip your ass if you interrupt their prayer. That, and I don’t have a felony conviction.

But there was something worthwhile during the aftermath of the negress-trailer trash beat-down. The trailer trash, who was really upset, called the proud (and triumphant) negress “Ghetto trash”.

Ghetto trash.

Well, I think we have learned that in addition to 30 being the new 20 (thus 33 being the new 23), pink being the new black, and the blonde dude from Layer Cake being the new Bond, “ghetto” is now the new “nigger.” I’d also venture that “urban” is thus the new “negro,” and “inner city” is now the new “jiggaboo” (though I think Flave got Jiggaboo covered.)

Perhaps when that white dude beat that dude with the baseball bat while calling him “nigga,” it really wasn’t a hate crime. Shit, least he didn’t call him “ghetto.”

And perhaps Cynthia Mckinney, was indeed slurred when she was called common ghetto trash. (She lost by the way. During Philly Appreciation week no less. Connection? You decide.)

Thus, I think am going to go back to being “colored” (Color me Redd nigg…oops I mean ghetta – cause there is a difference between ghetta, and ghetto. Ghetto is a slur!) because it sounds like “gentrifying neighborhood with appreciating home values”. African American on the other hand? Well, that just sounds like “Hotel Rawanda” to me. (I don’t mess with Africa. Them niggas is starvin’ and that’s not ballin’ to me.)

The lesson learned? Don’t interrupt a negress while she is praying. That would make her god angry!

Philly Stand Up!

High Stakes, I Got More At Stake Than Philly…

Last seen out of state where I drop my slang
I'm deep in the South kickin up top game
Bouncin on the highway switchin fo' lanes
Screamin through the sunroof - money ain't a thang

O-KAY- Run it on down!

Yo, it’s Monday. You can tell cause there ain’t a fucking haiku here. Lucky showing off his ole’ fancy ass book learnin’. Like a good evil henchman! I’m so proud. *sniff*. I’ve created yet another arrogant son-ova-bitch. Oh, happy day!

And can I say, for the first time this season, “E-A-G-L-E-S!!! Eagles!” I love this game. As a result, there will be a lot of Philly love up in this jawn today, nah-mean, Ak? What’s good Fam?

Now, today I am gonna answer your questions, all two of them. Then I’ll have some room left, cause I’m concise that way.

T, who was thoroughly disgusted with my “Uncle Tom-like” blind defense of Condi Rice insightfully asked:

"People might not get all they work for in this world, but people work for everything they get."

If this is the case, how do we (believers) reconcile this with a "just God?" How can someone sleep at night with the idea that "I might sow something and not reap anything for it!" Does this not promote a "what's the point?" attitude? Not to get too deep, but I'm just wondering your take cuz this is something that troubles me deeply.

Success is never guaranteed. Sometimes we toil for things that we do not realize. Often for reasons outside of our control. I wanted to graduate law school first in my class. I didn’t succeed. Hell I failed. But, I graduated Cum Laude. My ring is enscribed Cum Laude to remind me of both my failure AND my achievement. And in some ways, graduating Cum Laude was more of an achievement than if I had been first in my class, BECAUSE of what I overcame to do it. The quote isn’t designed to challenge the idea of reaping what you sow, it proves it. I worked hard but got out-worked.

And I think that is the point. I didn’t work hard enough. So I didn’t earn what I sought. Even though by working hard, I earned more than most.


Hostess – the woman who outranked me on the Top-Ten blogs, but whom I aptly named (we talking licensing agreement, right lady?) asked – and then had the temerity to answer (on her page nonetheless—Oh, the humanity!):

What's more important for a young Black man in America? Following his dreams (i.e. rap music) or gaining a marketable skill?

I will say this one time, and one time only. I have a favorite poem. (See, I am intellectual like that. I like art, poetry, music. A renaissance man, like the black Ben Franklin – without the gut. And this is a “Philly Stand Up!” Subliminal digression. Get it? Ben Franklin? I swear, niggas need to read a history book once in a while. Sonny “Two trademarks in one sentence”Redd.) One that shaped my life and that I will share with my son. The good news is that only the first line answers your question, Hostess.

The trick is, to live your days as if each one may be your last
(for they go fast, and young men lose their lives
in strange and unimaginable ways)
but at the same time, plan long range (for they go slow; if you survive
the shattered windshield and the bursting shell you will arrive
at our approximation here below of heaven or hell). ...
"Advice to My Son" by J. Peter Meinke

Pursue your dreams, and prepare for your tomorrows. That is my advice to every young black male. I mean, there are several rappers who have degrees -- Lauren Hill, Tracy Lee, Master P, Chubb Rock (Ph.d in Biology), Kool Moe Dee and Roxanne Shante (Ph.d. in Psychology). And many more who have gone to college and had their career blow up while in school – Puffy, Jada Kiss, Ice Cube, Chamillionaire, David Banner, Bun B, Lil’ Wayne (yes Weezy), Russel Simmons, Kurtis Blow and the most famous one—Kanye West. So there is no reason why a young man cannot do both. Hell, nowhere but in college do you have time to pursue your dreams like that anyway. That’s my $.02. That was fun. Ask more!

And speaking of Kanye… In the words of the great negro poet Kwame, “One of these kids is doing his own thing…” and Kanye ain’t it.

Seriously, can there be any doubt that Kanye West ain’t shit but Kwame all over again? If you doubt me, peep this:



I mean its all there – the arrogance (a positive quality), the fashion (polka dots? You niggas know you wore ‘em), the decidedly un-gangsta approach, both rep outside of New York (Philly Stand Up! Does a pattern emerge yet?), the “K” names, hell, the use of their own names? Shit. It is clear, and I say it here and now – Kanye West is nothing but a modern day Kwame biter!

Need more proof? Here!




Now then, some of y’all work in government installations, and “Youtube” is blocked. Sucks to be y’all! But for my final point, I want you to put on your thinking caps (so I’ll assist).

You know, one of the repercussions of feminism (and there are many) is that women, the fairer sex, have begun to view men as a tool. We are a means to an end for many women. And hell, I have no real objection to it. Do you, ma! Don’t expect me to succumb to such manipulation, but God bless with all that. Let me know how it turns out. (But ladies, you reap what you sow. And when you are paid for, you are property.)

I remember when “get money” broads first came into style. Must’ve been around 87-88. By ’89, it was an epidemic. I blame the ugly crack dealers who had no shot at a woman, unless he tricked off $150 on a 8-Ball jacket. Shit, and real hustlers would trick off $300 on a Pelle Pelle. Me? I had my Alpinas, my little herring bone, Sergio Taccini sweatsuit, 3 parts in my eyebrows, and a natural stinginess. THANK GOD for the stinginess. (Oh, don’t sleep, I was reppin’ Philly HARD! Philly Stand UP! And this is a thematic digression!)

Anyway, to my point. A small beef emerged among two groups of rappers in Philly around this time. Ironically, at the time, they were all part of the same crew – the Hilltop Hustlers.

See, Three x Dope (3 x Dope, 3D, Three Times Dope – for Google Searches. Sonny “I really don’t understand why y’all spend the time to chronicle the shit y’all do, and then hide from the world by putting periods in your shit. If you’re hiding shit, get a myspace account. Nobody will see you there”Redd) dropped their album in late ‘88 early ‘89. The lead single was a song titled “Greatest Man Alive”, and introduced the world to the way we wear our hair in Philly. Like who you thought Bobby Brown got the Gumby from anyway? (Philly Stand Up!)

Well, for their second single, they released a song that moved me – deep in my heart. Spoke to me in ways that no song has ever compared with. Ladies and gents, I present “Funky Dividends” Play the video. There is a point)





For the government employees, I’ll give you a verse:

It's a shame nowadays you've got to stay paid.
It ain't like the old days, when you could serenade.
Take walks with your girl at night in the park,
And in the shadow, secretly steal her heart.
But the new wave 80's has everything reversible.
Instead of walks, you drive a Cadillac Convertible.
Two's bound to kill you, all you need is one
To constantly bug you to get her hair done.
Every weeks a new style.
She's always got to rock it.
Like a Super Bowl sack, she's tackling your pockets.
But when you want to chill, you find that something always blocks it.
You're looking for your wallet, but your girlfriend’s got it.
I tried to put you D [own], cause you was my friend.
You didn't listen. Now she's got you for your dividends.

Simple right? "Love shouldn’t be used as a personal Visa card." Classic! This is 1989. A simpler time.

Well, there is an interlude in the song (remember when songs had interludes and not Lil’ Jon screaming “O-Kay!” er’ three seconds? This? This is a “I still hate sourthern rap” digression) wherein, EST (the rapper) is discussing the situation with his girl, Michelle. Michelle explains:

When I was with Steady B, I had it all: Gucci, Louie Vuitton, gold, Liz Claiborne. I had it all. You ain't giving me nothing.

The dilemma faced by the young rapper (these niggas were in High School! Olney! Philly Stand Up!) is that he wants a relationship that is more meaningful than how much money and things he can provide her.

Now, the inside ghetto secret is that this song, and a line in “The Greatest Man Alive” were both directed at another emcee from the crew, Cool C.

Cool C was a local legend in Philly. He dissed the entire Juice Crew way before some cat from the South Bronx named KRS repped his borough, and tore down a Bridge. (For the confused, ask in the comments and it shall be answered.)

Cool C had been bullshitting on his album. The story goes that he was chasing after a lady instead of recording. I am sure he is neither the first nor the last, but no one learns from other’s mistakes.

In an effort to defend his position, Cool C led off his album with the single “Glamorous Life” (Yes you HAVE to play it):

First of all you got to have money
Just in order to be her honey
But hey, that’s down my line
Cause I like a girl that’s fine
Give her anything that she wants
Gold and money so she can flaunt
And show that
She got Gucci, Louis Vuitton
MCM styles of every kind
Mega Designs, Alpinas
This girl man, you gotta just see her…

Well, not to be outdone, Cool C’s interlude has Michelle telling her “new” beau:

When I was with Steady B, I had everything. I was rollin’ phat—livin’ large. I had all the luxuries of life. But when I was with that nut EST, he ain’t give me nothing!

Some love triangle, huh?

Coupla’ points need to be made here.
One – Mega Designs and Alpinas were sunglasses. I had both. I was – and am – the shit.
Two- I bet many of y’all have heard “Glamorous Life.” Or even remember when that third rate rapper with dyslexia – Fabolous (And there will be a generation of our children who will never be able to properly spell the word again. This is a lamentation digression.) co-opted the gang call of the Hilltop Hustlers…“Ohhh-OOOO!”
Three- The Cool C video is a direct ancestor of the bullshit videos we have today (Philly Stand UP! Or Sit down…) It had all the elements: Many uneducated negroes with gaudy jewelry, rented vehicles and the ubiquitous video ho. Shit, that could’ve been an Usher video.

Compare that with the subdued and poetic “Funky Dividends”, no jewelry, one car (with deep dish hammers- Philly Stand Up!) that couldn’t have been rented because one didin’t rent a car with rims in the 1980’s, no video ho…well she was acting ho-ish, but I digress.

My point to this long-winded diatribe?

I have none. I was just traveling Broad Street, and making a right onto “Memory lane,” remembering my home town.

Oh, but there is a moral to the story.

Cool C, the tall and generous rapper in the video holds the unique distinction of being the only rapper on death row. Seems that he and the ever-popular Steady B robbed a bank and in the process, killed a police woman. Well, at least that’s what Steady B said when he testified against his partner.

And y’all niggas thought C-Murder (I tell ya’ don’t use the letter “C” as part of your rap name. C stands for Cursed.) was hard. Philly niggas don’t be appealing no shit. And them LA niggas don’t know shit about Death Row. Philly niggas is hard, Ak! Nah-mean!

Meanwhile, “nut-ass” EST is lampin’ here in Miami. Writing Songs with Scott Storch! I suppose it is a shrewd move to keep your money in your pocket, and your eye on the ball. (Sonny “See, all my posts have a lesson. Today’s lesson is, Philly Stand…oh, I mean, stay focused. Don’t let the opposite sex fuck you up. Shit has consequences, man – AND the title is a double entendre” Redd.)

I suppose the moral is, tricking off cash on the opposite sex can lead to consequences. Tricking off time is equally dangerous.

One last thing...


PHILLY STAND UP!

Therefore A World With Amnesia Won't Forget Your Name

You held it down long enough,
let me take those reigns
And just like your spirit
the commission remains

It’s Hump-Day! Happy halfway through the week everybody! This one will be short and dense because I have real work to do. (That, and my mother is driving me out of my fucking mind. And folks wonder why I live 900 miles away. Yes, one day my old “blue haired” mother will live in the same area code as I, but today is not that day. Fortunately! Chalk this one up as a “vent” digression.)

Okay, enough about me. Today we are going to do three things. First, we are going to band together to do something right for America. Secondly, we are going to learn a lesson from one of my heroes. And fourth (I am using the Mexican numbering system-see Monday’s post, with any questions. And this is an “inside joke” digression), I am going to give youse (Yes Honest, I said “youse,” as in “you” plural, or the “whi-bonics” form of “y’all”) an opportunity to learn more about me and how I think. Okay, you got it? Good. (Sonny “I be schoolin’ y’all so hard y’all need a syllabus” Redd.)

First, I need all of my fellow bloggers to do something Gina asked y’all to do. Sign up HERE, and sponsor a victim of 9/11. And I don’t mean “sponsor” in the Sally Struthers, fat Ethiopian kid with flies on his face way. I mean sponsor in the “write something sappy and patriotic on 9/11 dedicated to those who fell” way. The program works like this, they are working to get each and every victim a blog home. Right now they are 35% complete. That means that y’all gotta tell er-body else you know too. Shit, at this point, tell them niggas with them janky myspace blogs that nobody reads to sign up too.

And I don’t care what your politics are – cause I get visits from all sides (as it should be, we stimulate thought, and take on all comers) – but 2,996 people died on 9/11, and regardless your opinion of the Iraq war, the war on terror (notice that I didn’t capitalize that shit) or Bush, in the words of that great negro poet Ghostface Killa, “America, together we stand, divided we fall/Mr. Bush sit down, I'm in charge of the war!”

So please, sponsor a victim. Remember them on September 11, 2006 – the five year anniversary of the day everything changed. (And there are a gang of black folk available for y’all hard core revolutionaries that don’t want to put white folks pictures on your page.)

Now fourthly (I’m telling y’all this is a funny inside joke)-- because I’m feeling magnanimous, drop off your questions for the evil genius in the comments. Don't waste my time or yours asking me some shit I ain't gonna answer. Glory, I know I owe you some Valerie Plame, and Serenity had a 401 k question (Sonny“memory of an elephant, and mind like a steel trap”Redd)but whatever it is, I’ll give you the right answer. Got that? That is like homework and shit.

Alright, lets get to today’s lesson.

When is the last time you thought about Frederick Douglass? I will confide in all of you that he is my personal hero. Moreso than Dubois. More than Washington, Powell, King and X. (Okay, maybe not X. That man had more integrity in his Little [Pun? Me? Never!] finger than I can ever hope to possess.)

Suffice it to say, I wrote a paper in 12th grade comparing the words and writings of Douglass to Malcolm X’s “Ballot or the Bullet” speech. (They compare very favorably to one another, by the way. Fred wasn’t no bitch.)

But in my meanderings, I was reminded of Douglass and my admiration for him. Then I stumbled across this little quote at frederickdouglass.org:

Frederick Douglass sought to embody three keys for success in life:
• Believe in yourself.
• Take advantage of every opportunity.
• Use the power of spoken and written language to effect positive change for yourself and society.

Wow. Sound familiar? That is some profound stuff. Be self assured, hustle, and speak and write upliftment. And y’all thought I invented being an arrogant uppity nigga! Joke’s on y’all! My game is at least 140 years old! Ha!

Well, since Douglass is all clairvoyant and shit, I wonder if he knows why I am so damn argumentative?

I do not go back to America to sit still, remain quiet, and enjoy ease and comfort. . . . I glory in the conflict, that I may hereafter exult in the victory. I know that victory is certain.

Yo, I am getting all goosepimply and shit! That man is good! Real good. Look, I am not going to spend my evening telling y’all all about this man who escaped from slavery, and then worked to abolish it. That is what wikipedia is for. I am merely pointing out that, while everybody is scouring the history books for some hero in Kemet, we ignore those right in front of us, who simply through force of will accomplish great things, in our name. If that ain’t a culture and history to be proud of, then I don’t know that the fuck is.

Anyway, I leave ya with one to think and ponder on:

People might not get all they work for in this world, but they must certainly work for all they get.

And on that note, I’m out. (Look forward to your questions!)