Yes, bitches. I've made it. 31 years, and not a single bit of evidence that would suggest aging. Maturity? Surely. But I'm a child of God, and I retain my youthful spirit and I remain young at heart. I love being alive at this point in time.

Can you believe that we actually have a black president?! I mean, take away the horrible recession, the toxic sludge in the Tennessee River, the still-unfinished business in New Orleans, the pointless violence in Gaza, the ignorant racism of the Republikkkan party--especially in my beautiful south, the lack of self-belief and the persistence of power-lust and you have a serious opportunity for change. And, as you can tell, I'm not one for the fantasy way of seeing things. I see dead people.

I also see live people. I see the chance to make the miracles that we think only God has the power to perform actually happen, with our own work. And I'm ready to make my mark on the world. We're not in a recession, as it would relate to the richness of the human mind. We're more capable of thinking our collective way out of this mess that we've made than at any point in human history. Why waste it?

Give me the green light. I can go all night. And all year. And all my life. I've been ready to go, and right now is as good a time as any in my term on this planet. Let's all get serious about life this year. Let's not substitute anything for hard work and dedication. As my man White Jesus always says, "Get prolific."

If you read this blog, peace and blessings to you in 2009. Thanks for supporting writers and readers.



This vid that I copped from Failblog.com is funny as hell and I think you should watch it as an introduction piece before I go into this next post:

I guess I'm posting it because it seems like the reporter should have used his common sense and not gotten in the way of an unstoppable force. He looked like the swaggering, confident sports journalist when the vid begins, but alas; he loses his standing, is sent spinning out of control and lands on his American ass.

Then he has the nerve to try to sound "cool" (get it--snow!) while laying on the white. He then collapses. When he is finally helped back up by a supporter whose face shall not be seen, he staggers--not swaggers--off into the distance in shame and stupidity. Maybe he should have questioned the wisdom of trying to be so close to something he couldn't control. This, oh my brothers and sisters, is what happened to still-Governor Rod Blagojevich. He saw the gravy train a-comin' down the mountain and had to be the Christmas turkey that got glazed [nl].


It is reported today that Gov. Blago WILL NAME OBAMA'S SUCCESSOR, in what has to be one of the most defiant political moves I've seen recently, next to Senator Larry Craig's STALLED ATTEMPT AT MAN-LOVE and subsequent refusal to accept even his own guilty plea in court, dragging his public embarassment out longer than necessary.

The move by Gov. Blago has already drawn a line in the snow between himself and THE DON MEGA HARRY REID, with the Senate Majority Leader repeating the party line that any person appointed by the disgraced governor would be blocked. Since it's everyone's intention to have Blago not only impeached but possibly prosecuted, it makes perfect sense that he would not take the idiotic step of tainting SOMEONE ELSE'S good name by telling the world that he--in all of his political morality--has decided that said person was the most qualified for such a powerful and significant position. But politics = Pandora's box, lest we forget...


My question: why is it that Blago keeps shitting on black candidates? Pardon me if my colorblind philosophy is blurring my actual vision, but wasn't President-Elect Barack Obama a black senator? Why would Blago twice put his slimy stamp of approval on two otherwise respectable black men with upward mobility and political aspirations of grandeur? Is this some type of trade-off? Do blacks in Illinois have to pay a penance for Obama's success? Sacrifice two knights to get one king? Checkmate?

Or is this something more politically poisoned? Is Gov. Blago putting his finger in the Obama Administration's proverbial EYE OF PROVIDENCE by spreading his own disgrace among other candidates that share a similar ethnic background to Obama, as long as he is hung out to dry by the new Democratic establishment? Maybe his posturing is a way of saying, "Look here, Mr. Magic Negro; I will not be the only one to fall on this one, so you'd better look for a way to save me and my political legacy before I start flipping even worse than the reporter in that YouTube video above."


And seriously, what does that "Warning" sign next to Blago mean? Is there some subliminal message in the choice of being snapped by a photog next to something that says the word "rats"? Hmmm...

Hopefully Blago will smarten up quickly and realize that he's already fallen. No need to keep playing yourself for the cameras, dude. You are the victim of your own epic fail. Just collect yourself, turn around and walk away. And please don't expose those that tried to help you get back up in the process. Let them have their dignity.




We're getting close to the end of this chapter, my brothers and sisters. And what I will tell you is that we need some motivational mottos for the coming year. We've still got Republikkkans on that racist b.s., Israel and Palestine are still beefing and the media is still hyping the recession. But there's good news all around, if you can sift through the seasoning salt.

Me? I'm taking the next 48 hours to determine what will stay and what must die in my own cypher. In the meantime, while I get my green on, here is a list of possible mantras that you might hear me drop once the ball in Times Square falls. Feel free to use anything you like in your own dialog with other progressive peoples. Add one if you wish!


Time to shine in 2009
(Be a star)

On the grind in 2009
(Don't wait for anything; go get it)

Smoke some Pine in 2009
(Why not?)

Vintage wine in 2009
(Spoil yourself)

No Calvin Klein in 2009
(Pause. Nolo.)

Grow some spine in 2009
(Where your heart at?)

Free your mind in 2009
(The rest will follow)

Please stop lyin' in 2009
(Real talk.)

Gon' get mine in 2009
(Get yours!)

First class flyin' in 2009
(As long as you're paying)

Fly design in 2009
(Swag is dead)

Not left behind in 2009
(Stay ahead of the curve)

Style divine in 2009
(Do it like Jesus would)

Deserve to dine in 2009
(I gotta eat)

Lead the blind in 2009
(Dumb rappers need teachin')

No mo' cryin' in 2009
(You can complain, but who'd listen?)

Beat Ben Stein in 2009
(Get money!)

Get off the vine in 2009
(Gossip and rumors are for girly boys)

Read, then sign in 2009
(Don't get jerked!)

Don't rewind in 2009
(The movement moves forward, not in reverse)

Clean vagine in 2009
(Because feminine hygiene rules)

Fresh behind in 2009
(Gentlemen: wash your draws)

This could go on forever. The point is that 2009 does not have to be lame as hell. Power to the people, wisdom, success, health, strength, honor and happiness to you and yours. And be safe out there on Wednesday night, whatever you do.





First of all, the governor of Illinois looks like an aging porn star. That mop he's wearing is too suspect for words. But if he intended to upgrade to the JOHN EDWARDS HAIRCUT price range, he should have figured out a better and more realistic way to earn the chee$e he needed to pay the bill, instead of charging others to play the political game and getting recorded over a federal wiretap. What a dumbass. But alas, you already know that politicians are not smart. And if you haven't already seen the video of Patrick Fitzgerald, the same U.S. Attorney that brought down Scooter Libby in the C.I.A. leak investigation, then check out this YouTube of Pat reading aloud the alleged words of Governor Rod Blagojevich, which I guess were recorded and transcripted. As you can tell, "bleep" is the new "fuck."

In other political news related to Hip-Hop, CNN.com ran A STORY ON COMMON, Chicago's original native son, and how he believes that Obama will change Hip-Hop for the positive. I have to say that the homie is 100% on point. It's going to be awfully hard to rap about selling drugs, pimping hoes and gang life when the POTUS is a black Harvard Law graduate and has an extremely intelligent wife and two beautiful daughters. Mark my words; it won't be long until Obama has to rebuke some dumb rapper for saying something sexist or crime-related in the same rhyme that he celebrates having a black prez. If Obama will turn his back on a corrupt white dude with whom he had political history, he will certainly throw a cold elbow to Shawty Lo or Gucci Mane or one of those other cats. Shouldn't matter much to them; they can still hurry up and make an Obama song while the frenzy still hasn't peaked. Obama ringtone, anyone?


Everybody is making money off Obama right now, or at least trying. Even my sweet old grandmother fell for the PAINTED OBAMA COIN commercial and paid $29.99 by credit card for a set for your faithful and humble narrator. God bless America. Obama might just sell us out of this recession. The question is, does Obama own his own name, or does it now belong to the American public? Who's really getting taxed, oh my brothers and sisters?


Cash rules everything around me.


HIP-HOP SHRUGGED: A Dystopian Fable for the Recession Xmas of 2008


Ladies and Gentlemen: Your favorite blogger will not speak to you tonight. His time is up. I have taken it over. You were to read a post covering bullshit black gossip, stupidity in the form of “urban news” or the current legal fuckery of your favorite rapper—whatever you normally check for on the internet that has recently occurred in the world of Hip-Hop and/or politics. That is what you are going to hear.

For two years, you—the dying music industry of Atlanta—have been asking axing, “Who is Mike Jordan?” This is Mike Jordan speaking. I’m the guy who loves and values Hip-Hop. I’m the cat who does not sacrifice his love or his values. I am the dude who is relieving you of your victims and thus destroying your world.


And if you wish to know why your record labels are perishing—you who dread fresh, innovative, empowering and creative Hip-Hop music, I am the writer who will now present it to you on this post.

You, the A&R, music executive, program director, record label owner and--hell, yeah--magazine publisher, have said that this is an age of creative crisis in the music business and that southern rap’s sins are destroying Hip-Hop. But your chief virtue has been sacrifice. You have sacrificed innovation to sales. You have sacrificed empowering lyrics to demoralizing chants. You have sacrificed development to current market conditions. You have sacrificed art to commerce. You have sacrificed talent to hustle. You have destroyed all that which you held to be evil, and achieved all that which you held to be good.


Why then, do you shrink in horror at the sound of the Hip-Hop music that surrounds you in your Mercedes-Benz’s Bose stereo system? That music is not the product of your sins. It is the product, the rhythm, melody, lyrical content and chorus of your virtues. It is the moral ideal of your musical reality brought into its full and final perfection.

You fought for it. You have dreamed of it; you have wished it… And I am the man who is helping to grant you your wish. I am removing the sources of all those evils you are sacrificing—one by one. I am ending your battle; I am stopping your cipher. I am depriving your world of The 5th Element.

Writers do not represent the culture, you say? I am withdrawing those who do. Writers are insignificant, you say? I will withdraw those who aren’t. I’m showing them the way to live by another morality: mine. It is mine that they are choosing to follow. Will you soon be crying that this is not what you wanted? The culture of Hip-Hop in ruins, abandoned by its embedded and entrenched yet mentally emaciated writers, reporters and journalists is not your goal? You did not want us to leave?

You damned Atlanta. You damned Hip-Hop but never dared to question your code.

Yes, this is an age of creative crisis but it is not Hip-Hop that is on trial. It is your moral code. And if you wish to go on existing in this culture, what you now need is not to return to creativity but to discover it.

Sincerely Yours,
Mike Jordan

a.k.a. The Underwriter
a.k.a. the black John Galt
a.k.a. The Best Writer Alive
a.k.a. Jihad Ballout Jr.
a.k.a. Perry A. Pelagreeno
a.k.a. Mickey Reagan
a.k.a. Grumpy McNasty

[This blog was inspired by Atlas Shrugged, a book that I highly recommend to any serious reader, writer or thinker.]