See, I’m old school Hip-Hop, but not at all an old head. I can appreciate what the youngins are trying to do with it, but nothing beats some classic lines and lyrics from the rap era when it was all about quality. Cats like me throw out one of my favorite rap lines when having a conversation with BUCKMEISTER FULLER or WHITE JESUS, two of my best homies. Cat like you, I call you a “gladiator.” Word to Killa Cam.

Here are just a few of the lines that I might use at any given moment when dealing with music industry dewshbags. Especially when the time and the wine are right. This time, we’re taking liner notes from the boy Nasir, who’s Nigger Untitled album has a FIRM RELEASE DATE of July 15. I don’t want to cover too much old shit, because the youngin’s can’t relate. But here are a few of my favorite recent quotables from Nasty Nas that I think bear repeating for the true Hip-Hop heads out there. Not counting The Nigger Tape, his most recent mixtape with DJ Green Lantern. I figured I’d give you a reason to even check it out, if you’re really that late on hearing it.

Hell, I might as well help promote something worth listening to. You can ask axe anybody - The Nigger Tape is pretty damn dope, so I expect the new album to be HD. I’m excited. It’s gonna be a hot summer.

“I squeeze nipples like pimples
To get the pus – get it?”

“Nazareth Savage” – Street’s Disciple, disc 1
(That might be a triple entendre right there, if you think hard enough. Nolo.)

“The lane was open and y’all was droppin’ that garbage shit
Y’all got awards for your bricks
It got good to ya
You started tellin’ the bigger dogs to call it quits?!

“Carry on Tradition” – Hip Hop is Dead
(Seems aimed at Dipset; makes sense too)

“Miserable cats, hunger painin’
Get off your ass, stop complainin’!
My crew be in Montego Bay
Marinatin’ while you home,
Waitin’ your arraignment…

…Certain cats they wanna kill me,
They ice-grill me,
But on the low,
Niggas feel me.”

“You Gotta Love it” – The Lost Tapes
(I love it. Self-explanatory; haters need a life)

“Ma, I’m sorry who the fuck I am
I can’t trust my fans
Out of luck, no constructive plans
My friends stay powdered up
I’m so drunk, can’t stand
You said if I would sober up
I’d be a powerful man.”

“Stillmatic Freestyle” – Unreleased
(This song, over the "Paid in Full" beat, rattled Jay-Z into making “The Takeover”)

“Sometimes I can’t help but feel helpless…
I’m having day-mares in daytime
Wide awake, try to relate…

…Human beings like ghosts and zombies
President Mugabe -
Holdin’ guns to innocent bodies
In Zimbabwe...
They make John Pope seem godly,
Sacrilegious and blasphemous…”

“Road to Zion” – Welcome to Jamrock (Damien Marley)
(Shows you how Hip-Hop actually pays attention to politics and humanitarian crises)

“You can’t revolve me, embalm me
Calm me or harm me
Rob me or dodge these bullets I’m bussin’,
See, that’s malarkey you yappin’
I open up the tri-pod
And put the Gatlin on,
And I start clappin.”

“Hustlers” – Hip-Hop is Dead
(I’m also a fan of The Game. Shit talk can be wildly entertaining when done correctly)

“Puttin old niggas verse the yougin’s
Most of our elders failed us
How can they judge us?”

“Be a Nigger Too” – Untitled
(An ill line on many levels… even my Mom agrees)

Good artists, real Hip-Hop artists, deserve better support, publicity and promotion. This way, they don't have to die first to get the cover of your favorite magazine. Word to Jadakiss.

"You know dead rappers get better promotion."




Here’s some shit you didn’t know - I’m a big fan of LITTLE BROTHER. And I'm very salty that they aren't doing Lupe Fiasco numbers, because that shit is ass backwards if you ask axe me. But it does make me a little bit happier to hear GORDON GARTRELL RADIO, which has been going on for little over a month, and is already killing the sound, style and song selection of modern terrestrial radio. Before you ask axe, that means AM and FM.

Maybe millions of Atlanta listeners want to hear Lil’ Boosie on constant repeat, but I’m not one of them. I need something closer to my own version of what radio should sound like, and if there’s a choice between that and NPR, you can guess where I’m tuning.

Gordon Gartrell Radio is a podcast that Phonte and DJ Brainchild have been producing since May of 2008. I’m actually surprised as hell that I’m not reading more about it on some of my favorite blog sites, but what the eff can you expect from cats who just post anything that seems relevant. At least these cats are truly "consistent", in the good way. And I'm not at all ashamed to say that I'm a month late on this one, and other blogs like 4 CRYIN OUT LOUD have been reporting that Gordon Gartrell Radio is golden. Even if The Minstrel Show and Get Back went straight wood. It's still all good. The dudes put on an outstanding live Hip-Hop show; trust it.


To give you a quick synopsis:

Episode 1 – Phonte goes in on R. Kelly (NOLO). He actually believed that Kellz wasn’t going to jail, which I always disagreed with. But his commentary is classic enough to listen to even if we all know now that The Pied Piper got off.

Episode 2 – Phonte speaks on pr0n, and the reasons why a monogamous heterosexual man should watch and use it. But he dissents on the whole “dp” thing. Hilarious.

Episode 3 – Phonte gives a great diatribe on television fathers, ranking every great TV dad from Phil Drummond to Cliff Huxtable, which is one of the most creatively funny ways I’ve ever heard someone my age say that modern black fathers aren’t worth shit. If you don’t listen to any other episode, this one is golden. But, then again…

Episode 4 – Phonte releases his list of the top ten “Lite Brites” of all time. Classic. Instant classic. This makes you think that dude can be a comedian if he ever stops rapping. I died a thousand times listening to this one, and I’m far from a coward. It’s just that fucking funny.


Oh, and absolutely big ups to DJ Brainchild. The music on the podcast is an extravagant mix of old, new, stupid, good, positive, negative and just plain old dope Hip-Hop. It’s what the fuck DJs are supposed to be doing instead of collecting payola underneath the table at P.F. Chang’s. The mix is inspiring, taking you back to the days that you loved listening to radio and great enough to make me finally load iTunes on my sacred personal laptop, which I swore to never do. This shit is just worth it; take my word. Supposedly, the podcast will be coming out every week on Monday. If you want better, you should check for it.

Or just keep listening to cocaine-fueled homo-erotic gangster masturbation rap on terrestrial radio, while intelligent and creative thought exists just outside of your limited mental reach. Don’t make me none. I couldn’t possibly care less, because I don’t settle for it.

Trues to the homie CHUCK for the link.

Don’t say I never share good news.





Washington D.C. just got wilder. The 32-year ban on handguns in the District of Columbia IS OFFICIALLY OVER. Who knows; maybe it’s a good thing for freedom, liberty and all that b.s. I mean, the Constitution does state that all Americans have the right to bear arms.

But, if you ask axe me, it’s awfully strange that this happens right when it appears that Senator Barack Obama might actually win the presidency. And if you live in or have ever visited D.C., you know that the hood is right around the corner from Pennsylvania Avenue.

I’m not one to advocate carrying handguns, because in my opinion, that’s why Ninjas are always getting shot. Simple math. Now a rifle, a knife or a scythe is much more preferable. But that’s just my theory.

Let’s just hope that this isn’t Christmas in July for racist militias. When Justices Antonin Scalia, Clarence Thomas and Samuel Alito vote the same way in a Supreme Court case, it’s usually bad news when it passes.

SOURCE: Reuters




The Bucket List is a list of things that need to hurry up and die, because they're killing the human race in one way or another.

For this installment, we explore ENERGY DRINKS and the geek monsters that drink them. If you haven't noticed, energy drinks are usually guilty of some of the worst and most blatantly ridiculous product names and marketing schemes in business. If you don't know what I'm talking about, take a look at the list:




(What every man wants)



(Is Gang Starr getting check$ from this?)






(Did Nelly skeet in this? Nolo.)



(The Devil is Alive... How sad is this??)

Do what you will with your own fucking health. I'm not a doctor, and I'm not trying to tell you muh-fuckas what to do with your body. But just don't be a victim of your own need for extra energy and such. Because that would make you a geek monster. And I love you too much to let you go out like a sucka.

If I gotta dead you, know it's only 'cause I love you...
Talib Kweli - "Know That"



George Carlin, who was a hero to modern comics, IS DEAD. I remember watching him back in the day, and always feeling like I was watching a lecture that you could laugh at. Dirty words sprinkled everywhere. But did I ever laugh out loud? Not really. I always liked Richard Pryor a little bit better, but I can appreciate dry humor, especially when it represents the counterculture and its funny enough to make you think.


But there's plenty of time for that debate. For now, may the man rest in peace.




I’m supposed to be writing a free biography for a very talented R&B artist, but first things first – meaning me. Just to remind you, I have certain emotions when it comes to DOING FREE SHIT.

But here’s where we are. This week, some important shit has happened. In case you’ve been missing it, here’s The List of The Doomed for the week of Juneteenth:


That shit is extra-fonky-fucked up right now. If you haven’t noticed, “Natural Disaster” is the new normal. I don’t have to remind you about all the other weather problems we’re having as a planet. But the floods are still spreading; there’s a shitload (LITERALLY) of water all over the place, and since the Mississippi River is a river and not a pond, it could be a minute before they get that shit together. Note: you don’t have to read or listen to the news to know that shit is never correct when they publicly announce that it's fixed…

I would say that we should give to the Red Cross, but what the fuck did that do for Katrina victims? I say that we pray. Or actually drive across six miles of water with a hammer and some duct tape and help rebuild. Your choice.


I think it’s time for everyone to give up the fa├žade of Curtis Jackson, at least here in America. How many albums can you expect an album to sell off of controversy and no quality? I know it worked for years, but everybody wakes up eventually - even us "niggas." I can’t remember the last G-Unit freestyle I gave a fuck about, and I check NY mixtapes all the time. Way more than most NY cats check underground southern music... Joell Ortiz deserved some of that G-Unit money if you ask axe me, Dr. Dre. But its your Interscope’s money. If everybody over there is happy, I’m thrilled.

But I’ll predict right now that G-Unit’s Terminate On Sight will be the official end of the ride for you 50 prick riders. It won’t come near a million, unless he drops a dope single before July. And when I say dope, I mean impossibly dope.

Because I simply can't condone Curtis taping a conversation with the idea that he could use it to discredit Young Buck if he ever tried to defect, which he is. I'm not posting Buck's diss song, because it's just not that good. But Curtis killed himself with this one. Sure, Buck cried and contradicted everything he's saying right now, but who knows how effed up his situation was when he tried to keep it 100 with Curtis? Now, he sees how shiesty this dude is, and how he's willing to go extra hard (NOLO) just to look like he's on top (NOLO).


Hillary Clinton

Do I feel sorry for Mrs. Clinton? Not really. I mean, I look at things very carefully when it comes to news and politics. That’s because most of it is bullshit, but if you can sift through the doo-doo, you might be able to keep up with important developments as they relate to you and the rest of the world.

Hillary is stuck in the position of having to keep her word and work to elect Barack Obama for POTUS. We all know that this was not the original plan. And it’s not that hard to tell that she’d rather be scratching a yak’s balls (NOLO) than to be actively promoting the man that came from nowhere to take the nomination.

But since OBAMA IS OPENING A LEAD on Senator John McCain in Florida, Ohio and Pennsylvania, it doesn’t look like he’ll need her as a V.P. Especially after he HIRED THE WOMAN HILLARY BLAMED for her campaign failure to help find a V.P. for him. Sorry Senator, it’s time to do what you promised to do regardless. The question is, “Are you still down for me now?”


If you’re driving a Mercedes-Benz G 55, regardless of your income and need for attention and fame status, you're an idiot.

I heard some bullshit today on NPR about how it’s not smart to trade in your Hummer for a Prius. And there were all these scientific reasons and guest dickheads trying to explain the reasoning behind the theory. Hey, if you want to believe that a car that gets 50 miles per gallon is worse for your pockets than a truck that gets 15… well, do you. Don’t say I ain’t tried to told ya.


As I expected, the wave of hate is subsiding as it relates to Lil’ Wayne’s Tha Carter III. Dude officially sold A Milli. Against all odds. The title stays in The South. Three weeks later, can we agree that a win is a win?

Hip-Hop is back. And it's back with undeniable sales numbers. Whether you don't dig Lil' Wayne or you do, you should be able to see that this will keep the media fascinated with our culture for years to come. Even if you're in it ultimately for the artform, you know we should be paid for this entertainment we're providing. Why not capitalize?

And again, Obama's winning without the Clinton machine.

You gotta love it. I mean, it’s only right.




Yo, I’m not the only one who thinks that this summer is going to be a permanent memory. And I’m only saying that so that the lames out there can wake the fuck up and start taking advantage of this moment in time. We’ve been waiting for some type of real movement, and it looks like we’ve wished it into existence, while working through the trials and tribulations of the last eight four-hundred years.

Now, let’s not get too excited. After all, the weather is crazy right now. Am I the only one who has noticed that cyclones, earthquakes, tornadoes, mudslides, wildfires, floods and droughts all seem to be showing up a lot more these days, with devastating results? I didn’t even mention hurricanes or heatwaves, because we know that’s coming soon. So, yes, it’s going to get even worse than it is now before the summer is over, if that’s imaginable. That’s a dark forecast for the planet.


But that’s not why I named this post “Black Summer.” Well, it’s not the only reason. Second of all, Lil’ Wayne officially jump-started and ghost-rode the Hip-Hop whip, which means that the south has risen once again. And because other signed rappers know the release schedules of major labels, they knew that it would be in their best professional interest to release their projects in the aftermath of a financial windfall. I’m very happy with the music that’s being released right now, and again, I’m not the only one. Energy is in the air.

Third, this is the summer before the first election in which a black man was the nominee of a major party. That’s fucking major. You and I know it, even if you don’t agree with my political philosophy. But the power of the black electorate is finally visible, and it now demands respect. We have a legitimate stake in this election, and I’m not even trying to say that you should be biased towards your race if you’re black. I don’t even worry so much about Obama’s ethnicity; I just think he’s a smart dude who is perfect for these crazy times. And others agree.

Black Summer, a.k.a “The Summer of ’08,” will go down in history as a great moment in the story of America. Shit, I might even go on and record that mixtape/EP that I keep threatening to deliver before August. Maybe. Until then, and until Hell freezes over, I hope to be here, happy and healthy, to deliver the story like Tim Russert would have done. So let’s make this summer one to remember for the ages, before the Reaper comes knocking for our souls. And try not to have too much fun…


Viva la Vida!




There was a subtle divide between intellectuals and philistines today on Atlanta radio. I was running errands in Atlanta this afternoon, and around 4pm, when I’m usually listening to “All Things Considered” on NPR, I suddenly had an urge to tune in to V-103.

Ryan Cameron, my old boss and mid-day radio personality for V-103, was talking to Johnny Gill. We won’t get into that right now, but I’ll post the audio if I can find it, because Ryan slipped in [NOLO] a few subliminal jokes while interviewing Eddie Murphy’s new best friend (sorry, Arsenio). Hilarious, I must say.


As he wrapped up the Johnny Gill interview, Ryan announced that the R. Kelly verdict was expected to be announced at any moment, so everyone should stay tuned. So I flipped back to NPR, because I know that “any moment” in radio means at least ten minutes. Back on the brain-worthy side, the voices of NPR were talking about THE DEATH OF TIM RUSSERT. I was like, “Whoa! Ol’ dude from ‘Meet the Press?’ Nah…” But yeah. Russert, only fifty-eight years old, died on Friday the 13th of an apparent heart attack. Life is stranger than fiction, and the profession of journalism is harder than life, maybe harder than Lexington Steele [NOLO]. No Terrance Dean.

But seriously, I always thought Tim Russert was the next Lil' Wayne of journalism. His steelo was always to confront people in subtle ways, so that the viewer or reader could decipher some truth out of all of the lies that politicians tell on a regular basis. He was obviously a Democrat, but he played it pretty fair throughout his career, as far as trying to seem bipartisan. Check this out:

Russert, 54, is a lawyer who started out as a Democratic political operative, signing on with Sen. Daniel Patrick Moynihan and gradually developing a reputation for devastating effectiveness at shaping coverage. He once leaked word to two reporters that the senator's Republican opponent had distorted his own military record, knocking the candidate out of the race and prompting the New Yorker magazine to observe that the man had been "russerted." In 1984, Russert made the jump to network news as a mid-level executive.
SOURCE: Washington Post

I’m sure that, if I looked hard enough, I’d find some shit he’s said or insinuated that I wouldn’t like. But who cares now. I’m sure Russert never saw his early death coming, especially in one of the most exciting political seasons ever. He was getting plenty of work all around television as one of the hardest interviewers in the game. And now, he’s dead, like many potential game-changers before him who were called back to the essence before the human race was ready to let him go. “Wow,” I thought, as I listened and realized that one of the major players in journalism was gone, just like that.

So I flip back to V-103, right before the announcement of the biggest story in negro news. Sure enough, as I predicted, The Pied Piper got off, exonerated of all charges. Pedophiles, urinators and statutory rapists – rejoice!! You just got another reason to continue to do you.


So the question is, who owned the day? Will this day be remembered as the day that Tim Russert, renowned journalist, passed away untimely? Or will it forever be known as “Kelly Day?” Which outcome is the weirdest?

You be the judge. I’ll be the executioner.




Sometimes I wonder how far I’m going over the heads of my own dearly departed readers. In moments of personal inquisition, I sometimes ask axe myself, “Do they get what I’m putting out [NOLO]?”

Here’s my best explanation of the pseudonym that I, Michael Jordan, use to best match my own literary shadow. In four equal parts, I’ll now explain my motives with this blog to you, oh my brothers and sisters, so that you won’t think I’m too far off my meds with this whole weird experimental writing fuckfest.

1. The “Underwriter”


Hit up Dictionary.com. The definition of an “underwriter” is someone that either guarantees an insurance policy (I co-sign Hip-Hop) or finances something. Let’s just say I’ve paid my dues, so I feel like I can speak my mind.

2. The “Under” Writer


I was born a black/Native American/white guy in Nashville, Tenn. I was raised in Huntsville, Ala. And I live outside of Atlanta, Ga. With my dirty Dixie pen, dipped in the blood of my ancestors, I represent my tri-state area of the south like a senator and I always look out for homebase. Since I’m used to the Gulf Coast, I tend to be somewhat biased towards any state east of the Mississippi River and below the Mason-Dixon Line. Get it?

3. The Underwriter


Everyone knows about The Grim Reaper. Everyone seems to be scared of him, but these days, people still, for some reason, worship death. So why the fuck not start a blog that made a parody out of the modern fascination with death culture? At least it's better than a cult.

For God’s sake; niggas wear silver and rhinestone belt buckles made in the shape of the poison logo! I’m not afraid of death, but if you are, I’m sorry. You should get over it before we all perish. Plus, why not laugh at something that is coming our way eventually? Should we really be scared, as much as we say, “This is dead,” or “that is dead?” Hell no. We should embrace the humility of our humanity. I feel it’s my duty, since I have little feelings left for this game, to take the role of Hip-Hop’s Undertaker and use some black humor to demolish the status quo, so say hello to Joe Black. Since I’m a dope writer, I do it like I’m doing it for The New York Times. So don't be such a little bitch about it; geez!

4. The Under-Writer


I love the underdog, like everybody else. So I love to look out for cats like Lupe Fiasco, until they start believing that they’re so “Cool” that they can shit on legends like Q-Tip and A Tribe Called Quest. Nope, I still haven’t let that one go. But I still think that Little Brother Phonte is one of the best rap acts in the game today. So I’m going to keep telling people that Phonte Little Brother deserves more attention. But they still need 9th Wonder…

To wrap it all up, this is the voice of my shadow, which has developed over the ten years I've spent working in the entertainment industry. I get paid to make people look better than they deserve to look, and the checks almost never come on time. So you’ll have to excuse the seemingly negative undertone of my style. I really mean no harm, and like Common, one day it’ll all make sense. Until then, to be honest, you can ignore it or applaud it. But I appreciate all perspectives and support from my readers. Just don’t come incorrect, or you will get literarily buried alive.

Viva la Vida!



Ok, so my plan with Mr. Pussy, a.k.a. "Anonymous", didn't produce any real results. Dude, you should be fucking ashamed, whatever your name is. Because, of course, anybody that comments on The Deadliest Blog in America should know better than to challenge the landlord. But I thought you were willing to debate The Best Writer Alive, on some real intellectual ish! Come on hoe; where's the bravado?

But really, I don't want that to affect all of the other potentially great haters of the world. Yes, hate is dead, but this blog is also dead, so I still accept hate in all of its unholiness. Like W said, "Bring it on!" If you have hate on your heart, let it out.

I'm sitting at my favorite drunken safe haven, having a discussion with others about why you need haters. And I just realized that even though I have haters in abundance, I need them to speak louder. And I'm not going to ask axe nicely much longer. You don't want me to speak easy; it'll get ugly.

So please, haters, let me know if you catch feelings. It's not necessary to comment on this one, but in the future, come up with a name, for God's sake. And tell me how you really feel, for real. Or stay the fuck off my blog.

Hey, at least I'm honest.




Courtesy of OnSMASH and Smarten Up Nas, here is DJ Kay Slay's "Streetsweeper Radio" response to J.D., who recently took the piss and told his blog TheMostAccess.com that the Hip-Hop DJ is dead.


Living in Atlanta, you get used to Jermaine Dupri saying whatever he wants, and nobody says shit, because it is perceived that he holds the cards. And maybe he does. But if you ask axe Kay Slay, a lot of executives have been spending too much time at the Terrance Dean barbeque holding balls, which is the real reason why artists like Janet Jackson can't sell anymore.

"Another problem we got with the f*cking executives and the higher ups in the industry - too many of you niggas is f*cking each other! That's the f*cking reason why y'all can't pay attention to what the f*ck a hit record is, because you're too busy trying to find out where the hit asshole is!!


*I just died*

After all of the drama, Kay Slayed em. Wonder who's going to spin those TAG Body Spray records for Don Chi-Chi now?


UPDATE: Greg Street Weighs In.



It is being speculated by HITS! MAGAZINE, which is always on point with the numbers, that Tha Carter III, Lil' Wayne's third tenth album, is going to sell somewhere in the range of 900k in its first week. That's units. In today's dying music market, two rap artists have still sold in the almost-million range - Kanye and Weezy F. Baby. Again - they're both Hip-Hop artists. That's major. And it's further proof that Hip-Hop is obviously not dead. Mariah and Usher both came in under 500k. Before Wayne, they both had the highest debuts of the year. Don't call it a comeback.


I seriously don't understand that people didn't see this coming. In the south, Lil' Wayne has been a star for such a long time that this is not at all surprising. The Hot Boys were major; if you're under forty and you've ever lived in the south, you know that Cash Money got major love in all the local Hip-Hop club spots. And not just for a few years. All through the nineties.


Juve and B.G. were always going to be restricted in the same way that Trick Daddy is now a local Florida rapper. It's sad, but it's true. T.I., Jeezy, Rick Ross and Plies are running the game on the Gulf Coast, but Wayne is beyond the game. Not because he did anything for the south, but because the south did everything for him and he delivered.


Wayne broke out and became prolyfic after Cash Money almost folded, and he discovered that it didn't matter how many dudes from outside of the south didn't like him. He could sell on his own terms if he kept it moving and slowly kept stepping up, like a mountain climber on codeine. But he knew he would need enough non-southern appeal to break above the Mason-Dixon line, and that's why you gotta love the blind ambition.


I'm not asking for people to see it as a timeless piece of art; I'm conservative enough to put it in the "dope" category. Besides, Tha Carter III will still become known as the first classic since Graduation, regardless of detractors. That's way more than will ever be said of 75% of rap albums today. Tell the truth - that internet leak should have caused way more damage. Most of these internet rappers will never generate that type of hype anyway.


I'm actually proud of Weezy. It is a good ass album. And I don't even have to call [Nolo] after that. If there's any lesson here, it's that New York really did fall off for a minute, because there's nobody up there that has been building the same momentum since 50. That's the current blueprint for a successful New York rapper. He blew up and shitted on the lyrical side of Hip-Hop, as he simultaneously glorified the "gangster with a bodyguard" lifestyle. The south never believed it, but he made all his music for us anyway, so we let it go. Now the south still rises, and there's no northern answer. Not hating, just stating.


Check my review at THE UNDERWORLD. That's all for now. Now go away.




Certainly not the South Koreans.

We already know that they are shook, because your homie Kim Jong Il has those nukes on lock for the lowski, and could literally help them to blow up internationally. Since he's running the North, you could assume that his higher global positioning would give him the upper hand. It's kinda like the movie Revenge of the Sith, where the person with the higher ground cuts the other down to size. Plus, I don't think that South Korea has the muscle to go at Kim Jong like that.

If only they could be like Americans; we're so thuggy that we do it the old western way. We shoot the guy from 2 stories below, and he always does the "I just got shot" dance before falling from the rooftop onto a wagon. In our dreams, we're invincible. But I don't mean movies when I say that North Korea is the Wild, Wild East, and Will Smith is not about to risk his ass to fight a lunatic dictator with atomic bombs. Not in real life. Dude is even wilding out on the U.S., old-school style, like, "If you're feeling froggy, leap!"

"Kermit - better think before you 'ribbit'/ Don't be murdered over your song before you ad-lib it." - Fabolous

But back to the point, South Korea has a much more immediate beef to settle. The cabinet of South Korean president Lee Myung-bak OFFERED TO RESIGN today over beef. Not the kind you find in rap; the kind you find at a restaurant. Apparently, somewhere between 60 and 400k people marched in Seoul, in protest of the government deciding to resume importing American beef, which the whole country is convinced will bring Mad Cow Disease into the country.

WTF?! Am I missing something? Should we, as steak and shrimp-consuming Americans, be interested in this at all? Is our meat really tainted like that? I was actually becoming more concerned about Avian Bird Flu, which is found in chicken, until this new publicity fuckfest. The cattle industry can't blame Oprah for this one. Bad news spreads on its own, like salmonella.

Which reminds me, DON'T EAT TOMATOES, EITHER. Matter of fact, don't eat anything. Food is dead, and THERE'S NOT ENOUGH TO GO AROUND anyway.


If you're smart, you'll get like me and drink white tea, praying for the drought to end soon so these American farmers can go back to planting that good shit. And pray for the sanity of our cows. I'd be mad too if humans killed all my folks, cut them up into prime ribs and rump roasts and shipped them off to Asia, only to see that people never wanted beef in the first place. Bovines of the world, you'd better step your political power up.


Viva la Vida!!!




Dear beloved readers: run yourself a hot bath and drop a bottle of black ink in your already dirty-ass tub water and get ready to scrub away the rigor mortis of bad writers and bitch-made editors. I’m coming back around.

Let’s just say that some weird cat had the nerve to post an anonymous comment on the blog of His Supreme Awesomeness, and it kind of made sparks. If you’d like to read it, just CLICK HERE and start at the actual blog post. Then look down at what this urethra sponge had to say about what was obviously intended as a joke. Gotta love those internet militants!


I mean, dude got sensitive. I read the comment and was taken aback by the sheer emotion. But come on, hoe, where’s the bravado? You mean to tell me I’m being stalked by an internet geek who can’t even make up a pseudo identity? “Anonymous” is just another word for non-famous, and since I have the microphone on this here stage, no no-name heckler will ever merit a response from me other than fuck you, whole fistedly.


On a positive note, thanks to the few of you who have kept coming back through my two-month hiatus. No apologies; no excuses. I just had to make sure I stayed up while shit was going down, if you will follow my lead.

So here’s some hope for the hopeless, anonymous haters out there. A slap on the ass for all the babies who can’t live and breathe without my help. Things are turning a corner of sorts for your humble and faithful narrator, and I’m just now feeling like I might know what to do with this blog.

Thanks again. Good night. See you tomorrow?