Night Of The Living Dead

I was totally content with letting this blog die a slow, crusty, gangrene-ish death. I'd been hired at a new company, which at first completely kicked my ass and killed any possibility of free time, much less the mental capacity to blog about anything. The funny thing is that even while I didn't update, the blog kept a quiet little buzz, and even received some anonymous comments from time to time, including prayers that I'd one day be castrated by my own scythe.

And while the buzz died down considerably (which happens after 2 years of nothing), the praise for this whole experiment remained somewhat steady, the only buzz I was trying to build was the kind that came from quality vodka, Hoegaarden, or $14 South African wine to settle my nerves after a day on the job, and from writing whatever prose I could conjure up from my cold, janky heart, especially if there was a freelance check involved.

I have to admit that it was the anonymous comments that made me want to start again. Sure, many of them are in Chinese characters, and seem to be the kind of stuff that nobody should click on, that is if they prefer not to have their laptop explode or emit Agent Orange through the speakers. But some of the comments were actually encouraging, and some of my friends still ask if I'm doing the blog anymore.

So here's what I'm gonna try to do, since we're all dying anyway I've become better at time management. I'll make better attempts at keeping this thing current. That might mean one or two posts per week for a minute, but I'll try to keep them worth every effort put forth by your ever-yellowing eyes.

And if you didn't miss me, kill yourself.

BURIED IN WORK, BUT FAR FROM DEAD

Sorry about the lapse in posting continuity. The new year brought a super-cool new job, new money and new toolery. Now that I'm working 9 hours a day on a MacBook, things are a little more complicated and I haven't yet figured out some of the deets when it comes to grabbing images and such, so it looks like I'll be having to switch back and forth from my trusty PC (Sade) and this new laptop. Which is probably for the best; nothing like a bunch of weird blog posts that don't relate to the job sitting on a company hard drive to kill your career before it's really born.

So thanks for the patience, and especially thanks to THE GEORGIA BLOGROLL, which just added your faithful and humble narrator to its listings. I'll be back around in a few hours. Hey, at least I'm Twittering more often!!

As if you care.

THE UNDERWRITER LIVES TO SEE 2009

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.

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.]

INSPIRED BY OBAMA (and sour diesel).

Jesus, I had no idea how zooted I was when they shot this video. That's what two Ls of Sour Diesel and plenty of vodka will do to you. Anyway, here's that video I told you about from the New York post.



Let there be no doubt that I was feeling extra glowy with those blue lights all around me.

FRIDAY NIGHT LIVE IN NEW YORK CITY

Visiting New York City is a surreal experience for anyone from the deep south. To be honest, I've always been against the idea of living in The Big Apple but happy to visit for a day or two. The feeling I've always taken away is that nobody should have to pay that much just to survive, no matter how cool the people are. But there is the key; the people in New York do make the city, and the environment creates a hardened (nolo) perspective--the NY State of Mind--that exists in even the most anti-social residents of any and every borough.

The first major difference I felt was when I opened up my laptop at the Chili's Too in La Guardia. Nobody tripped. Not that I would have cared; I do it all the time in Georgia, Alabama and Tennessee, and nobody says shit then either, but the feeling that is displayed on their faces takes body language to a new level of expression, especially when it comes to looking like a hater.

As you see below, I've been riding with Obama since the beginning, and the sticker along with my smile should show you just how I feel if you're looking at me sideways. But again, that's what I'm used to in the south; in New York City I was reminded by the relaxed look on the faces of onlookers that I was among friends, even before I had branched out into the city. As a welcoming sign of acceptance and mutual political thought, it was quite a relief.





Being the third trip I've made to NYC since I've been old enough to drink, this was by far the best time I've had. After an incredibly janky flight, we landed and were towed into the gate as the flight crew threw on "The Sweetest Taboo." Don't ask axe me why our plane couldn't steer and push itself. At least the mood music calmed me down after all the turbulence and whatever else was really wrong with the damned plane. Thank God for Sade and solid ground.

Anyway, I was in town for an interview with a NY-based website that shall remain nameless until the word is official, possibly longer. If you haven't noticed by now, I'm really into anonymity. Fame is an unnecessary side effect to being effective at my craft, and I'd rather sacrifice the spotlight than the joy of loving the job. While I was hanging around SoHo, I visited The Huffington Post before taking the R train to 57th street to get up with the homie White Jesus.


[The homies White Jesus, David and Stella Artois]


Because I was already planning for and expecting a positive trip, I setup my iPod while still in Atlanta Thursday night with NYC-inspired music, to give me a better respect for the subway ride and scenery. While moving through underground Manhattan, I was listening to shit like "Pacifics" by Digable Planets on repeat. That's always been a song that reminds me most of how you NY cats live. Funny how it made much more sense when heard on the subway. You hear, through the headphones, the influences of the train itself in the music, through background noise captured in the track. The sound effect gives it way more clarity than if you were listening through home stereo or car speakers. Experiencing NY Hip-Hop in NY is like drinking Evian directly from a river stream in the French Alps, without the hassle of the plastic bottle. Fresh.




From there, I made the trip to the area (edited) where the homie White Jesus lives and works. Having a best friend who happens to have a good job (edited by request) is a perk in any city, but in NYC it makes a serious difference. The homie lives in an area that is straight out of Seinfeld or Friends. Very urban, but very sociable and lively. And very Jewish. Like the homie says, "It ain't Karate..." Inside joke. Think hard enough and you'll get it.

Back to the story, we got on some Ketel One at his crib, then took a cab to TriBeCa to get up with some other friends who live in town. They had the hookup on the leprechaun delivery, so we stayed put until around 11 p.m., chiefing that great, high-powered Sour Diesel and Apple Jacks. Legalize it!!!





Next, we hit up the apartment of a former co-worker from my bartending days. She had recently moved to Brooklyn, so we were able to visit her and her roommates on the way to the club for a few extra free drinks and our first game of "Thumper." If you've never played it, it's another one of those games that white people play when they're getting OVERTHROWED. And that shit is pretty fun, especially when you have some drunk white women surrounding you in a semi-circle and doing all types of crazy dances and gestures. Here's an example:





Moe finally had enough and steered us towards the party in Brooklyn before we got too juiced up with the party girls, who were headed to their own little shendig around the corner. We took another cab to the club, where all we had to do to get in free was agree to be interviewed on camera about how President-elect Barack Obama has inspired us. Supposedly this video interview will be available tomorrow on their website. If so, I'll post a link. If not, forget that I said that. But I did take a photo of the guys doing the interviewing, just for posterity and so that I'd look like a tourist.




The party was ehhh, but at least there were some other cats that I knew from Atlanta in the building. We spoke to a few ladies, drank more than a few G+Ts and stayed until around 3 a.m. The women were weird; they stared all night but were too timid to respond when we spoke, so I left it alone. Don't you hate a shy chick? Didn't really matter; I wasn't there to try my one-night stand luck; I was there to drink with the homies. Mission accomplished.




We'll leave all the other details out, but the moral is that I had a great time in New York. This was the way I always wanted to experience the city, and just when I've developed the proper mentality to deal with NYC, I see that the city responds to my demands. It gave me the impression that even though people swear up and down that it's an almost impossible lifestyle to lead, which I would have agreed with before this weekend, New York City is still the Mecca of American civilization and the birthplace of Hip-Hop. Because I've always been assumed to have originated in either NY or LA--yet I'm actually from Alabama--it felt like a homecoming of sorts. I can't lie; I pretty much fell in love with the city this past Friday, and I feel like I'm cheating.

The next day, White Jesus had a meeting at his job (edited) and I had a hangover that was not ready to quit before noon, so I woke up, popped a Claritin with a bottle of Pellegrino like the elitist I am and went right back to sleep on the couch. I woke up able to breath and refreshed, ready to hit the Sour Diesel again and grab a slice with the homie before hitching a cab ride back to La Guardia to make my grand exit.

On the way back, I had a great convo with the cabbie, who almost turned me down for a ride from the area (edited for White Jesus's anonymity), but changed his mind because "I talked to him with respect." My man was of Arab descent and a hard-core Democrat. We talked the whole ride about the historic implications of an Obama adminstration and how we've got to work as a world community to keep our differences from becoming rivalries, no matter how far apart we are geographically, ethnically or ideologically. When I arrived at the curbside check-in for Delta flight 925, he wished me good luck on being offered the writing job and thanked me for the conversation.

Jesus. I think I love New York. Don't be mad, Atlanta. Just step your game up before I leave your tired ass.

FLOWERS FOR SHAKE, TOOT AND JENNIFER

[Listening to Viva La Hova, the new mash-up of Jay-Z and Coldplay, trying to stay in a positive mood for the greatest day ever. GET LIKE ME.]


Out of all times to pass away, I believe that those who have either lost or will lose their lives before Wednesday of this week are victims of cruel, tragic timing. Appropriately and respectively, I'll begin with my thoughts on the unthinkable Hudson family incident, because the funeral was held this morning and you're probably already tired of hearing about it. I don't know if I'm more afraid of the fact that a human being could do something so ugly, so publicly, or if this is the new normal.





Times like these, when real people die from real bullets--especially when said real people are innocents--make it difficult to listen to some of my favorite gangter rap songs because the lyrics come a little too close to reality for comfort in this case. For what it's worth, I don't blame Hip-Hop or rap, or drugs or guns for what happened to Jennifer Hudson's family. I blame the lack of intelligent minds in abundance. But our world culture has to change quickly if we're going to stop thinking about doing crazy shit like this, much less making rap songs about it. We've got to adjust right now, especially with this first chance in history to truly change the world. While we're at it, there are a few people who deserve recognition and respect, who gave it all they had but somehow did not reach today like you and I.

To begin, I'll be honest and say that I'm completely flattened by the apparent suicide of Shakir Stewart, the Executive Vice President of Def Jam Music Group, who I've known personally for 11 years. I met pretty much everybody who was ever in a position to cut a respectable check in Atlanta back when the music business was really booming, like around the mid-90's, when I started interning for So So Def. I always liked to believe that Shakir was just lucky enough to beat me by three years to Atlanta because he was blessed with perfect timing, but the truth is that he was made for the job he was given, therefore he excelled. He was the deadly combination of an intelligent hustler who was somehow always a few steps ahead. One thing I remember him saying a lot is "Work hard; play hard." My thoughts are now with his family, the rest of his friends, family and co-workers from the LaFace/HITCO days, and especially L.A. Reid--he pretty much hand-picked Shakir to be his successor in the game, and now he's gone before fully reaching his potential, which was still probably two years away. I absolutely believe that Shake would have signed the next artist to sell 10-million albums. Seriously, I don't hate or fear death, but I hate this. And that's all I have to say about that.





And by now, we all have heard about Senator Barack Obama's grandmother, Madelyn Payne Dunham, a.k.a. "Toot", who unfortunately left life behind for a higher existence, just hours before her grandson would be chosen by the people to lead the nation and become the most powerful man in the world. Not much more to say except "I'm sorry," which isn't enough or even appropriate, since I have nothing to do with it.





None of these stories are more tragic than the next, and none are to be forgotten. All serve to show that it is always darkest before the dawn, and things will always worsen before they change for the better. To you and yours, I offer my best hopes for a peaceful day and a glorious Wednesday morning, when we will together see the dawn of a bright new day while remembering to take an extra moment to remember those who we wished could stand with us as we celebrate the arrival of the future.


VIVA LA VIDA.

ALTERED BEAST - THE REINCARNATION

"Rise from your grave!"


Thank God I don't work for you, oh my brothers and sisters. If I did, I'd actually be in danger of being fired, because Lawd knows I haven't attended to the job of blogging since we hit October together. You would think that I'd continue to put up those pesky Obama campaign posts as promised, but nope. The way I see it, my job is not to just lurk for news on all the normal sites and post an opinion everyday just for the sake/fuck of it. Sorry if I set you up to be disappointed but it makes way more sense to take my time and put out quality over quantity. Creativity over consistency--all day homie. I'd rather do a great thing once and retire with respect than do a cheap thing forever and be branded as consistently marginal when I'm gone. Call it what you like. Maybe I'm just ungassed enough to know that Senator Barack Obama will win without me, so I can relax and watch history being made without my help.





See, I recently hit a monumental point in my life, wherein I decided to say, "Fuck you." And I don't mean that to be taken personally by you, dear readers. Quite to the contrary, you are something of an anomaly; you read this blog without promotion, marketing or gimmicks. I mean that rhetorically as a retort to those who would allow me to go on slaving just because I wanted to be noticed. I'd rather not be noticed for a flash in the pan, actually, and I consider anything gimmicky to be hot pepper on the stovetop. Speaking of gimmicks...

I'm at odds with myself on what to do with this blog. The whole trial (and error) of putting the word "Dead" in every post title became tiring and restrictive, and it was one of the things that forced a creative vacation. My return sort of signals that I'm ready to make some changes, but I've grown to love and hate this damned thing, which lets me know that it just might be permanent. Is that good or bad? I have no idea. I do know that I feel as if this blog is less of a ball and chain commitment than a labor of love. I can't possibly stop being expressive about the things that I write here, lest I let my guard down and dwindle into unchallenging thoughts and ideas. And that would be figurative death by spiritual abandonment.





By the way, did you know that DOLEMITE IS DEAD? Yeah, I saw it today while I was at work. That's another thing; I've got a new job. It's crazy that it came during a period of negative economic growth, but it gave me a fresh new perspective. I can't lie; it feels great to know that I'm going to get a check when I expect it and it actually pays the bills and leaves extra behind, not even considering my ultimate hustle of writing and promoting. Sure, I want Rudy Ray Moore to rest in eternal peace, but that doesn't mean pimping is dead.





I'm actually in a great place right now. Autumn is setting in, the leaves are dying and changing colors from green to gold, brown to burnt, falling to the earth to fertilize the future. It's a wonderful process that recycles life on our planet, and the earthtones create some of the best scenery you can witness when doing something as simple as walking through a nature trail. Don't forget I'm 1/3 white.





I don't know, dear readers. It just seems like I'm always on the opposite end of the world. When shit is shitty, life is gravy for me. When everybody else is partying, I'm feeling pitiful. Maybe it's only right that the changing tide brings me new fortunes. Hell, you might even say I deserve it, after having gone through that good ol' hard knock life that your boy S. Carter so eloquently mused about. Maybe I'm becoming that person I'm supposed to be, or always was, without the detriment of outside wickedness. Or maybe I'm just drunk off this pitcher of Bud Light I've almost finished.

Whatever the case, I do appreciate your patience and suggest that you hang around. Trust me, big changes going to keep coming. Actually, don't trust me. Just don't act surprised.


Viva la Vida!

SORRY - MY INTERNET WAS DEAD

Please don't mind my absence. I've missed updating the blog more than you know. The only problem is that I've recently moved, and I have no internet connection at the new spot. So I'm having to hit various places and post new content whenever I can, and this week has been especially hectic when it comes to free time.

Anyway, forget all of that. Excuses are like pee-holes. Just so you know, I'm going to be getting it on tonight when it comes to the blog, because I feel like I've been wrong by not updating like I'm 'posed to. Thanks for bearing with your boy through my bear market of blogging. I'm still negotiating, but the bailout is coming soon; I promise. Until then, just watch TV or something. Matter of fact, THE DEBATES ARE ON TONIGHT @ 9PM EST!!

I'm going to put something up very soon. Preshate the patience, and at the same time, you're all welcome.

BIRTHDAYS ARE DEAD

If you know somebody that's a Libra, give them a pound today. Michael Jordan, otherwise known as THE BEST WRITER ALIVE, is celebrating a birthday today, oh my brothers and sisters. In memoriam of his dead Myspace blog and the success of this weird, savage undertaking that you are now reading, he decided to post one for nostalgia's sake. I mean, KANYE WEST might be reading it, or at least some great writers from around the globe. Might as well flex some mental muscle from MJ's Think Tank.

This one was called "The Birthday Blog." It was posted two years ago on Tom's Rupert's social networking site. Since we're two years past, I went ahead and updated it for flow and maturity. Enjoy it like it's the last blog you'll ever read.



############################################################


THE BIRTHDAY BLOG





As hard as I tried not to do this, I broke down 30 seconds ago and decided to write a blog on my birthday. My honest intention was to just clog the Bulletin Board with announcements and irritate people the way they do me everyday. I figured this one time it was for a good cause; those bastards never mind asking me to "CLICK HERE TO SEE MY TITS!", so I don't mind telling everybody that I was born 100 years ago today. At least that's what my profile should say if it's working. How old am I really? Well, I'll admit to being old enough to have finished college (which I haven't), old enough to have put 10 years in the music/media business, wise enough to know that kicking a dead horse won't make it trot and young enough to get carded faithfully when ordering a drink.


Some of the things I've learned thus far are listed below, in no particular order:


- Family is most important. True friends are family, and everyone else is an outsider.

- Women will get you killed.

- The truth is a joke. Try telling a Republican that they're ruining the world. I bet they laugh.

- Never plan your day around someone else's schedule. I've been telling myself that for 12 years, and it's finally kicked in, giving me the ability to feel great about being self-centered and to stop worrying about anyone else's actions.

- You don't necessarily have to put God first. He/She is first anyway, and you're going to figure it out the hard way unless you embrace the grand reality of life.

- I'm the best writer alive. And yes, I mean it.

- Some people never change, for better or worse.

- With the exception of what we call "Kush", Drugs are Bad. Mmkay?

- Most people don't read. They just look at the paper and criticize the pictures.

- You can't work for someone who can't pay you.

- Politics are important, because if you have to put up with liars, you have to pick the ones who are most sincere.

- For some reason, Black people are a threat. Don't ask me why.

- The music industry doesn't exist, like the Mafia or the illuminati.

- Sex cures anything. Except STDs.

- Having musical talent can and will save your life.

- Gossipping men are most likely perpetual masturbators. Eventually they run out of friends and sympathizers.

- Celebrity Blogs are like right-wing radio: destroying our collective conscience day after day after day...

- By the time you read this, I'll be tipsy off some high quality red wine. Spoil yourself; no one else will.

- You have to find something to live for before you start considering what you'd die for.

- Capitalism has good and bad points, but it's still a better system than anything other current model.

- People think that love is about sacrifice, but it doesn't have to be. It could simply and purely be about love, if you think about it.

- Grudges will get you nowhere, but not all things should be forgiven easily.

- You can't compete with someone who doesn't see you as competition.

- There are some moments, people and incidents that you never get over. In order to survive, gotta learn to live with regrets.


AND STILL MOST IMPORTANT...

- I'm Free.

WAKE UP: YOU ARE NOW LIVING HISTORY

Who do you want to be today? What's so special about Thursday, August 28, 2008? When do you plan to thank God for the breath that's in your lungs? Where are you going in your life? Why should you be happy to be alive? How do we get even further than we are today?

All six of those questions begin with the starting words that journalists are taught to ask their subjects. Who, what, when, where, why and how. Allow me to add a seventh query to the list:

Do you care enough to be alive at this crucial time in history?


Today is the 45th anniversary of the deliverance of the so-called "I Have a Dream" speech by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. He was a titan among all men, not just African-Americans. If my math is correct, he would be 79 years old today, if he were not assasinated by cowards who did not want to allow change to come about in American society. Unfortunately, like many great men and women who sought to make a difference in the way the world works, he was stopped short before he could see the future he helped develop with his own eyes.





Fortunately for the continuing development of African-American culture - and that is not to say that I don't wish that all cultures continue to develop, besides white supremacists - we have new heroes. Of course, Senator Barack Obama, who was nominated last night as the Democratic nominee for POTUS, is an outstanding, shining example. But there are others, oh my brothers and sisters.

You and I are included in that number of saints who can now march forward into tomorrow with pride, dignity, integrity and purpose. This morning is a great morning, and it is the foundation upon which the future will be built. So please, PLEASE, get your punk ass out of bed and join the rest of the new civilized world.

We are now evolved.

THE OBAMA CRUSADE: Day 32

TODAY:


I'm not going to say much. But as you can see...

I CALLED IT.


CLICK HERE FOR MORE INFO.


FYI: Liberal America just exhaled a deep breath of relief... And again, I was right. Respect my authority on politics (and all else).

THE OBAMA CRUSADE: Day 20

TODAY:


John McCain learned that his recent campaign ads against Obama, which attempt to paint Obama as nothing more than a celebrity cult leader of sorts, are not only confusing and misleading, but they are even considered a waste of money by his own campaign donors.

Kathy Hilton, known to the world as Paris's mother, has already given $4,600 to McCain for his presidential campaign. Yet she has come forward and posted a blog on THE HUFFINGTON POST of all places, calling the advertisement below an unwise way to use the money he is collecting from Republickins like herself.

"It is a complete waste of the money John McCain's contributors have donated to his campaign," Hilton wrote.

"It is a complete waste of the country's time and attention at the very moment when millions of people are losing their homes and their jobs. And it is a completely frivolous way to choose the next President of the United States," she wrote.

SOURCE: REUTERS

MCCAIN VIDEO:




Notice how geezerly, antique, geriatric, elderly, antiquated and hoary this guy McCain looks at the end of the above commercial. It's like he's looking out of the window of his retirement home bingo room and thinking, "Pick me America! I'm the one with the AARP membership!"


OBAMA RESPONSE AD:




I love that line - "Same Old Politics." So, who won the day? You tell me. Or better yet, let's go beyond the grave and ask axe the late great Tupac Shakur...


"All you old rappers trying to advance
It's all over now; take it like a man...
N*ggas looking like Larry Holmes - flabby and sick,
Trying to player-hate on my shit? You eat a fat d*ck!"
2PAC - Against All Odds


(My name is not Senator Barack Obama, and he did not approve this message. But I do support him for POTUS.)

RAP NERDS DON'T DIE - THEY MULTIPLY

CLICK HERE TO READ THE FULL STORY of how The Underwriter, your faithful and humble narrator, took part in a high-definition Hip-Hop discussion with four other pure rap nerds with presidential status in the game.


Shout to Billy X. Sunday, a.k.a. Dallas Penn, of XXL and iNTERTETS CELEBRITIES fame, for hosting a great Hip-Hop debate right chea on my stomping grounds of Cobb County, GA. The homie let me know early that he would be in the ATL this week, so I made a point to get up with him and a few friends at Taco Mac on the East-West Connector (near Six Flags) to discuss such relevant and immediate issues as The Dark Knight, Fonzworth Bentley, Lil' Wayne and of course the only five albums that a person could take on the Mothership. In attendance were Maestro (producer: Lil' Wayne's "3-Peat") and frequent XXL commenter Twerkolater.

It was a great night in Atlanta for rap thought. We consumed drinks, cigarrettes and topics like intellectual cannibals. Nobody was given too much free reign over their opinions, but everybody's words were respected and we all left feeling as if we had fleshed out our own ideas about how the game should be and how things really are today in the world of Hip-Hop culture.


And I was throwed like a horseshoe. I'm surprised DP even remembered any of this fuckery, because he seemed as drunk as I was. Shout to him for staying on point and delivering the story. I went home and crashed like Dale Earnhart (R.I.P.).



Until next time, Chea!






UPDATE:

CLICK HERE FOR MAESTRO'S BLOG


CLICK HERE FOR TWERKOLATER.

MONDAY NIGHT LIVE: EWF @ CHASTAIN PARK

I did absolutely nothing today, because I was OVERTHROWED last night. However, it was for a great reason.

Your homie hit up the Earth Wind and Fire concert at Chastain Park in Buckhead. If you're ever in Atlanta and someone offers you tickets to Chastain, take them. Even if it's a KKK rally. There's no such thing as a bad show at Chastain. Everybody gets slizzard, shares good food and dances and sings. Always a good time, but when EWF is in the building, you know it's going down like Johnny Gill in a bathhouse. Nolo.





Maurice White, the founder of the group, no longer tours with EWF, but Philip Bailey, the guy with the high-high pitched voice, is still holding down the vocals. And when I say holding down, I mean it. Dude went from the low-low register to something in the Mariah zone. Amazing.





The show started at 8:10 PM and ended at 10:00 on the dot. The band went through all the mellow tunes first, then got it supercrunk towards the end with "Let's Groove", "September", "Fantasy" and all the others. For an encore, they came back with "Keep Your Head to the Sky." Great show.




Backstage, I got up with Verdine White and Ralph Johnson. Verdine asked axed me where the weed was. I gave him my business card.

BREAKFAST IS DEAD

I present to you, "Futuristic Brunch."




If you look at the producer credits, you'll see a familiar name. Don't say I don't break bread.

CHRISTMAS IN JULY - "SANTA CLAUS" IS DEAD

Before I even ask axe the following question, I need to say one thing. I am an even-thirds split between Native American, African-American and white - certified mutt. I am a southern Baptist, which means that I was brought up around people who believed that Jesus had blonde hair and blue eyes. On top of that, I'm also a proud member of the Mama's Boy club, because my mother is nothing less than a saint. She might even be a goddess, as far as I can tell, so if she lied to me during my early stages, I must assume it was with good intentions for my future, even if it now seems questionable.

But enough of all that, for now. It's not intended as an excuse for the question I pose to you. It's more of a way of explaining the thought behind it, if you follow. It just so happens that, after I posted that last one, I started thinking about religion for some reason. Then, I started thinking about Christmas. Then, I remembered that it's July. And then, I remembered the myth of SANTA CLAUS, and how I once was told to believe that he was real. And on, and on, and on....

And, lo and behold, my mind found a question that I've never before heard asked axed aloud in the ways I thought about, even though I'm sure it's been queried between you and friends or conversational associates - if not among one other person you trust, maybe even two. That is, assuming that you're not scared to confront people with real questions every now and again. If not, I hate to be the bearer of bad inquisitions and scare you off, but I just can't resist this one.

By the way, you don't even have to comment or respond. But if you feel like it's a good question, leave a note about it. You won't hurt my feelings either way.


Here goes...


If we live in a culture where children, as soon as they could comprehend, understand and enjoy a sweet bedtime story, were told by their parents to believe that a fat man named Santa Claus was flying around the world on a supersonic chariot of reindeer and delivering presents to every "good" child alive...

Then, one day, we discovered that the whole story was nothing short or long of a lie...

Then how are we, using the "Fool Me Once..." rule of thinking, supposed to truly believe in some of the religious traditions we hold so close to our hearts, which also start and justify wars between countries?



Too scary to even think about. But those who walk in fear will never reach the truth on their paths. That's not a quote, by the way. I just made that shit up. Get like me.

Lest you internet geeks start thinking that I just woke up and found out that I wouldn't get a new X-Box game and a train set this year, let me just say that I'm a grown-ass man. I've been beating down myths for a long time, way before some of my friends reached puberty. I'm of no illusionary mind that would let me believe anything that I haven't experienced. That includes God, and for the record, I'm a believer. A blond-haired, blue-eyed Jesus or a fat German on a sleigh that can will bring my bad-ass kids some gifts when I can't afford them? No mucho. And I don't even have bastards children yet, if I don't count internet haters. Which I don't.





Sorry to interrupt your sleep. You can thank me later for the gift that keeps on giving through generations... the truth. Now go give out some turkeys to the homeless or something.


"M*therf*ck*r, I'm ILL..."
- Lil' Wayne; "A Millie"

THE MOURNING AFTER…

Shout out to COX RADIO, my corporate sponsor, for providing the free room and tickets to the 2008 Essence Music Festival, which went down like a laxative. Made me feel regular again. Maybe you’ll catch the real rundown in a magazine or newspaper or something, if I feel like selling it.

In case you need it, here’s a quick list of what to do and what not at Essence 2009, for anyone who didn’t make the event this year. Just a head’s up: next year’s show, which is being headlined by Beyonce, will certainly be just as crunk. If you can get there, I suggest you make the trip. For the record, there are more women than you can shake a scythe at. Don't take my word for it, just ask axe somebody.

On with the list, and off with your head...


1. IF YOU DRIVE FROM ATLANTA, GET SOMEBODY ELSE TO RIDE WITH YOU

I drove a rental down I-85 and made it to New Orleans in about 7 hours. The drive wasn’t that bad, but it would have been much cooler if I had somebody riding shotgun to offset any suspicious vibes I had that the cops might have been following me, which they weren’t. But it’s not very cool when you see thirty to forty cars pulled over in a row between Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi. Very, very sketch. I’m still shook and I’ve already made it back safe and sound.


2. DON’T STAY AT THE RITZ-CARLTON IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

Sure, it’s at the top of the food chain when it comes to nice hotels. And most of the celebrities had rooms there, so it was cool to be walking outside to Canal Street and seeing people like Lynn Whitfield and Kenya Moore walking past you on their way in. Plus, I got my room for the freeski, so I can't complain too much. Then again...

On the other side of that, there’s the snitch factor. Not that I would dare be dirty in the most esteemed hotel of the upper class, mind you… Let’s just say that I had a funny feeling Sunday night while I was getting "prepared" for the concert, and less than 10 seconds after, the cleaning lady came and knocked. After that, I was pretty much sketched out for the remainder of my trip. Plus, the ladies at the check-in/check-out desk tried to play me with some extra charges, which I deaded immediately by being proactive enough to check my balance before checking out.

An Ill side note:
On my way out of the hotel on Sunday night to the Superdome, right after the cleaning lady interrupted my session evening, I was walking down the hall, on my way to the elevator, and saw a Swisher Sweet box laying in front of a room. Next to it was an iPod Nano and a rope of disco ball-colored beads. Guess what was in the Swisher Sweet box? Can you say, "Dro?" Better yet, can you say, “Free iPod?”

Then again, maybe you should stay at the Ritz, with those type of free goodies. But I’d recommend the W. It’s way more jumping and way less sketch.


3. DON’T BE A HOT BOY

I said that I would consider going to the 9th Ward to investigate the progress after Katrina. That was until I realized that the locals would much rather come to us in the French Quarter than invite us back into their territory. When I say that New Orleans has it’s own culture, I mean it. And those people can spot an outsider pretty damn quickly. Ever heard of a ghetto pass? Get one, or you probably won’t be welcomed into the Mac-Melph-Callio.

Still, I got plenty of local love (nolo), probably because I’m from Alabama, and I know when and how to use local words and phrases like “out chea”, “baby” (pronounced “bey-be”) and “boy, that’s cold.” Get like me.


4. BRING CASH (WHERE IT'S SAFE)

There was so much authentically-fly art being sold by street vendors that I felt like a loser when I realized that I couldn’t buy a single painting on Visa or AMEX. Most of it you’ve probably seen at your local Black Arts Festival, but some of the stuff was simply incredible. And the good shit was not even that expensive - $150 could get you something unique and exclusive, and I'm killing myself for not coming up on this ill Obama painting that was set against a newspaper backdrop. I can't even describe how cool that shit was.

Too bad I spent most of my cheese on hurricanes, pina coladas and gumbo.


5. DON’T PARK YOUR RENTAL ON N. RAMPART AND BOURBON ST.

Bourbon Street was ridiculous. And the atmosphere was electric. But I don’t believe that even the crunkest of street parties gives somebody the right to stand on top of someone else’s (literally, not mine) Jeep, unless of course ninjas were shooting and people were just trying to get out of the line of fire. So maybe those dirty bootprints were just from some lucky fool who had a MJ-inspired vertical and got away from certain death. I applaud that. Now, if I would have caught said local dancing to Lil' Boosie and Webbie on top of a car I was too cheap to have insured? Let's just say it he would have been "down bad."

Speaking of which, Bourbon Street did get shut down on both Friday and Saturday night/morning around 2 a.m., because locals were either engaged in massive street brawls or just good-old murder capital shoot-outs. From what I heard, some cats did unfortunately get bodied. Sorry, I was throwed off the hurricanes and too happy to get shot for the home audience. Tell CNN to save my eulogy and celebrity tribute for later.

My 2008 Essence Festival motto: "I'm too cool to die for a rental car."


6. GO TO THE CONCERT

The good people from Cox Radio, with whom I was chilling, were not trying to go to the actual event. They spent most of their time either in the hotel or on Bourbon St. getting throwed and trying to be like your faithful and humble narrator. Made no sense, especially when Chris Rock, Mary J. Blige, LL Cool J, Jill Scott and even Keyshia Cole (no, really) tore it down at the Superdome. And I was there to see it.


Proof, in the form of photo images and video, is forthcoming, once I get some sleep. For now, I need to unwind, relax and detox. Reserve your room at Hotel Underwriter (The W) today, or miss tomorrow. In the meantime, holla at a playa when you see me in the streets, trick. And don’t drop your iPod or Swisher Sweet box on my hotel floor unless you won’t miss it.


“I feel like lying / down in a cigar; roll me up and smoke me, ‘cause I feel like dying…”
- Lil’ Wayne; "I Feel Like Dying"

NAS IS A SURVIVOR

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?!
What?!!”


“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
Macarenin’
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."

THE WEEK IN DOOM

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:


Iowa

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.


G-Unit

I think it’s time for everyone to give up the façade 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).

CLICK HERE FOR THE AUDIO.



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?”


THE S.U.V.

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.


Haters/Racists/Dewshbags

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.