"SENATOR" ROLAND BURRIS IS DEAD

EDITOR'S NOTE: Look, I don't need no Secret Service problems. That title isn't to be taken literally, so don't get all tight about it and start goon monitoring me from Langley at the secret underworld headquarters of the National Obituary Desk. The concept here is political death, not physical. So leave me the hell alone. I shouldn't even have to say that, but there that go.



Man, I called it. And I'm still calling it now, even though it probably won't be announced until Sunday or Monday. Senator Roland Burris will vacate his Illinois senate seat, and unless he's a complete boob, he'll do it sooner rather than later. That's money.

See, this guy should have known that this was a bad idea all along. You already saw WHAT HAPPENED TO JESSE JR., when he tried his political hand at Obama's former spot, and found out that not every black politician is Barack Obama. Hell, not many white ones (or Jindals) are either, for that matter, so don't get too gassed about your chances. Those are some big shoes to fill, oh my brothers and sisters.

Now that he SOMEHOW GOT IN, he's the loneliest black guy in the Senate chamber, even without the ethical cloud that is raining poop water on his head. Taking the offer (or should I say "deal"?) from former IL governor Blago was stupid in itself - can we say instant self-ether? The smart move would have been to stay out of the line of fire, until the man with the target on his dome was exterminated by the political media's firing squad. Blago was already alluding to his complete coolness with taking others down with him. Some of those statements he made on his TV award tour, prior to his impeachment, had some slick undertones; it sounded to me as if he was quietly saying, "Look, this is how politics is. You pay to play. Now, don't make me have to get Nino in the courtroom on y'all. You know you got money in the freezer too, fool!"





The Democrats have been trying to keep a clean house recently, especially now that they're too busy running the government to expose gay Repubs anymore. But all that means is that the G.O.P(enis) is looking for some retribution rape, now that they're all the way uncovered as racist homosexual morons. You see they got rid of THIS GUY, and THAT GUY, so they're obviously not trying to wait on anybody to slip up, now that they're 1 seat away (Franken's gonna win) from a filibuster-proof Senate vote. That makes Burris the new problem.


I've got to admit that I was disappointed in Congressman Bobby Rush's "lynch" language, at that early press conference when Burris was just named by Blago as Obama's scab. Was it really necessary to bring race into the whole affair? If a black guy was the last person to hold the job, with outstanding performance, how can you assume that the next black guy won't get a fair chance at it -- unless you think that there's some secret issue that could ruin the whole orgy, like 1 person in the group had crabs and didn't bother to inform everyone else. But if you already know how everybody in the clusterfuck of Illinois politics gets down, then you should already know what's up, and you shouldn't show up anyway, now should you? Don't tarnish your gallant reputation by getting in bed with freaks.

Now, Rush, our proud former Black Panther, is sitting his ass down, and Burris having the marble toilet he had mounted blown up from underneath his balls, on some Lethal Weapon 2 ish. And Blago was doing a good Sgt. Riggs imitation, except he didn't stay around long enough to pull Burris's ass away from the explosion, or just to give some spirit-boosting encouragement, like "Guy's like you don't die on toilets."





White House Press Secretary and Obama weed mule Robert Gibbs said with nuanced subtlety on Friday that Burris ought to STEP THE FUCK OFF. The new Governor of Illinois, Pat Quinn, made his position clear by saying that Burris is a WACK MC that should be tossed off stage by the draws. Plus, one of Burris's senate aides told him HE PLAYED HIMSELF, and went back to his former position as the Tony Yayo of Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid's G-Unit.

So now, "Senator" Roland Burris is looking like Rick Ross. If I were him, I'd pack my bags, steal as much Senate stationery as I could get my hands on, and run back to the lab to record a new political mixtape about his experiences. I might even download it for free.

WHY ATLANTA IS DYING OFF

I tell you, oh my brothers and sisters, the times, they are a'changin' around this beeaieyach. So let me begin by saying that I hope you had a great Thanksgiving, and I hope that you're not only thankful for that gluttonous meal you ate Thursday afternoon with your fat-ass family, but you're also in the spirit of giving something to those who might be in worse need than you this winter.

Keep in mind that I'm not a fan of baseless charity; I prefer that people find something that they love and want to see bettered through personal investment. Deserving a gift is the ideal. But let's be fair; we're in a recession and there are hungry and cold people out there who may have fallen through the cracks under Georgia Bush's reign of terror on the American government. Prayer helps, but action is necessary in these times. Let's all pitch in.

Speaking of Georgia, since it is one of the states that I represent through my honorary position as Senator to the southern tri-state area of Tennessee, Alabama and Georgia, and I do most of my business in Atlanta, let me keep it ultra gutter and tell you what's really hood in the city that made me. Here, as food for thought, are the top 30 reasons why the City of Atlanta is pretty much dead. Listen to me now; believe me later on.


THE UNDERWRITER'S TOP 30 REASONS
WHY ATLANTA IS DYING OFF:




1. Shakir Stewart's death (R.I.P.)
2. T.I. going to jail
3. Luda going Hollywood
4. Gucci Mane in jail
5. Young Jeezy cooling off
6. Soulja Boy
7. Jermaine Dupri running a club & destroying Janet's career at once
8. L.A. Reid in the Hamptons
9. 1/2-ass Janelle Monae project management by Bad Boy
10. Lil' Jon M.I.A.
11. Hot 107.9's A-Team fired; replaced by Ricky Smiley
12. Maurice Garland M.I.A. since 11/5
13. Gyant gaining fame
14. No clear cut female rap queen/leading lady
15. Jax death (R.I.P.)
16. DJ Drama still in legal limbo
17. Killer Mike fadeaway
18. Usher in career limbo
19. Dallas Austin on permanent vacation
20. Alfamega
21. Kaya becomes Club Vision, then torn down for Trump condos
22. The death of Freaknic (R.I.P.)
23. Mike Vick not coming back
24. Traffic
25. Price of a$$ & foreclosures ^; local economy & city budget down
26. Continued water (& weed) drought
27. Polow Da Don recent brick marathon
28. Still no Real World Atlanta
29. Chicago's comeuppance
30. No alcohol sales on Sunday except clubs & restaurants


To be certain, there is only one hope...




The Dungeon Family. The first shall be last and the last shall be first. Anybody who has been here since the mid-90s can tell you that even moreso than Dallas and Jermaine and only second to LaFace, the DF made Atlanta cool, so only they can reinstitute the groove and save the city. If that fails, expect me to speak to you from New York or Los Angeles in 2010.

Fortunately, there are three OutKast projects and one GOODie MoB. album on the way. Thank God. Shout to the homie Dallas in town for Turkey weekend.

RELIGION IS DEAD

Thank Jebus it's Friday. Speaking of The Lawd, there's a movie coming out that I'm going to try to see sometime this weekend called RELIGULOUS. It's Bill Maher's journalistic satire of religion, and by most reviewer's accounts, it promises to be funny to OBJECTIVISTS like myself while pissing off most Evangelical neo-conservative lunatics and hopefully every other manipulating servant of Satan that pretends to speak the language of spirituality. You know the type...






I don't know your views on Christianity, Islam or Judaism, but you're more than welcome to ask axe God to strike me down for saying that I am highly interested in what this documentary-styled film contains, or you can just leave a comment and be less dramatic. But if you wish to know, I am neither an atheist nor an agnostic, but I have serious questions about the factual or plain-old believable issues that are preached in the name of The Lawd, especially down here under the bible belt, where assholes and dickheads alike stink up the region with their quiet quest for money, power and fame--all in the name of Jesus Christ, Muhammad or MATISYAHU. God knows he has some strange followers that probably believe that he wrote the Old Testament or some next shit like that. Me? I was raised as a Baptist, and I had to go to chuuch all the got-damn time. I would hear all types of buffoonery. A quick list of some of the nonsense includes:

1. If you kill yourself, you're going to Hell.
2. If you're gay, you're going to Hell.
3. If you say "God Damn" too many times, you're going to Hell.

Now, I can't vouch for two of those, because I'm neither gay or dead from suicide. But I lost my fear of speaking my mind years ago, and sometimes you just can't substitute another phrase for the all-powerful "Gyeaad--DAAAYYUM!!" And besides, don't act like a lot of the men that attend mostly black churches aren't apple bottom biters on the low, if you follow. Maybe on the high... But please believe: God has been very good to me, so don't assume that I'm not a believer. I just don't let another human being get between our relationship, so I really have little to no use for modern evangelists, preachers and such.



The few spiritual leaders that I do respect have always agreed that there is no such thing as an unforgivable sin as long as you've accepted God into your life. The others have always made up things that they claim can be found in The Good Book. By the way, it is a good book, but did you know that the Bible was in fact not written by God? A man actually took the trees that God created on "his" earth, in "his" universe, and cut them into shreds so that he could print money, collect 10% of others' income and give it all back to God. God made man and man made money selling God's magnum opus.



OUCH-- I just got struck by a bolt of lightning! But no, really, what is the point of religion? I see it as a way to control people and to turn the individual hero into a compressed weakling who cannot exist on his or her own terms. Maybe that sounds harsh, but riddle me this: when was the last time you sinned? Probably today. And the wages of sin is... you already know. Death. But guess what? You're gonna die anyway, so stop taking things so God-damned literal and learn to laugh at life while you have it. Sheesh!

I expect to laugh incredibly loud at Religulous, but I do not expect anyone to volunteer to see it with me. And while I believe it will do decent numbers at the box office, I can also clearly see the future, when the zealots start protesting and calling for HBO to cancel his show like Comedy Central did back when he started FREESTYLING about September 11. If there's anything guaranteed in America, it is religious persecution, which is pretty sad when you remember that this country was supposedly founded as an antidote to intolerance.



You mad? Who cares. Take it up with the man, woman or entity upstairs. But please, save your accusations of blasphemy for someone that's stupid. I have always believed that the spirit of God lives in each of us, therefore we can communicate directly with the great spirit without the need of an intermediary or middleman. As long as we have pastors with perms, private jets and penthouse apartments that preach prosperity, I'll happily refrain from spending my sacred Sunday afternoon doing anything as ridiculous as attending a "house of God" that man built and paid for. Isn't God already rich? Doesn't "he" own the earth, as well as the universe? How much sense does it then make to cut down "his" trees, turn them into currency and give 10% of the paper product back to "him"?

God don't like ugly. And yes, I know I might go to Hell for this, but like The Last Poets said, "If there's Hell below, we're all gonna go!"

COMEDY IS DEAD: CHRIS ROCK RETURNS TO THE STAGE

I saw this guy at the Essence Festival in July, and all I can say is that he deserves his place on top of the black comics' game. There are funny comedians, hilarious comedians, wack comedians, dead comedians, missing comedians like Dave Chappelle, rising comedians like Katt Williams, and then there's the Rock.





What makes Chris Rock a great comedian is his diverse intelligence. He goes over a lot of ground in his live show, and even though his material has become much more vulgar, it has simultaneously become smarter and more worldly. Rock has become better with time, because he has not allowed himself to got the route of Eddie "I'm too busy with these wack-ass movies" Murphy, who he has always called one of his comedic mentors. But we all know that Eddie's shine has been supplanted by Chris's tenacity and consistency. Both men have selected or accepted some very suspect roles in some very dumb movies, but Rock has turned down the check to his own reputation's advantage. Eddie is just taking the check and showing the same cheesy, coony smile every time he shows his mug around Hollywood. And to think, Eddie used to be the funniest guy in the world...



Now, the poor guy is just a lost multi-millionaire, with a love child owned by Scary Spice, a recent snub at the Oscars and Johnny Gill as his last, best friend that he can trust to do anything for him if asked axed. What the hell happened to Arsenio? He would have never let his former BFF do a movie this lame...



All I know is that of all the funnymen out there who do their jobs by making people with senses of humor actually exercise their intellects, Rock is among the very best that existed. As a black comic, he dances across the fine line of telling the ugly truth and making it loveable, like a common pain that we all feel and have learned to live through together. He'll be in the history books if he keeps it up.

So watch his show if you have HBO. It's on right now if you're on the east coast; it plays at 10pm if you're on the Pacific side. Trust me.

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.

BREAKING NEWS: ZAPP & ROGER ARE DEAD

Look, I respect Kanye West and all, and I respect your musical opinion, dear reader, but this song--"Love Lockdown?" Hell nope.

You might really like this song, but I can't dig it. Ask Axe me about any other song Kanye has produced and/or performed; I'll probably defend it as either great, good or misunderstood. This one is just weird, and seems similar to the news of Palin being picked for VP, not very well planned out and intended for shock value. And Ye's taking a huge risk by having the extremely-overused vocoder voice effect featured so prominently in yet another currently radio-friendly "rap" song. Speaking of which, where's the rap? Eff that, where's the beat?





See... this song is so suspect that 50 Cent, who is pretty much dead in terms of relevancy in the realm of Hip-Hop, can mock it onstage. And sadly, the song is weird enough that 50 just might be able to catapult himself back into relevancy just by calling it out for what it is and getting fans to think he's trustworthy again. To me, Kanye got on some Palin-esque shit with this song, trying to fool the public with something outlandish. The scary thing is that it just might work, judging by the dumbness of the Hip-Hop audience and its readiness to accept anything that a marquis artist puts out with the assistance of the vocoder effect. And trust me, these artists would put out anything if not for true fans who voice honest opinions when it comes to G.O.O.D. Music. N.P.I.

I expect more; I expect better. I expect Hip-Hop. And I'm starting to feel towards Kanye the same thing I felt after Jay-Z put out Kingdom Come--like I'd be defending a guilty party if I said that the product wasn't indeed wack, which it kinda was. As much as I hate to say it, 50 might have a point with his parody of "Love Lockdown", because he's showing us that he's the ultimate stan, willing to challenge the artist he ultimately admires by making a point about quality.

I'm not saying that 50 deserves attention with this bullshit stunt he's pulled. It's just another desperate move among his many other feats of P.R. fuckery, proving that he can't just make a hit record anymore; I'm no dummy. But tell the truth: "Love Lockdown" sucks. And if a brand new artist that wasn't named Kanye West dropped that song, you'd never even consider downloading it for free, much less buying it. Call it whatever you like, just don't call it Kanye's best or even a hit record. "Flashing Lights", on the other hand, was a hit record, in case you forgot, and it didn't even need any hype or Hip-Hop debate to push it further; it was just dope.





All criticism aside, I do think Kanye is the new Quincy Jones, and he will end up furthering Hip-Hop music on the cultural time continuum, regardless of this understandable blip of failure. Hell, even Q has thrown up a recent creative BRICK. At least he waited until he was an O.G. to do what he knew was all about fast $, instead of half-stepping with his talent so comparatively soon when you look at other career successes. Back when he was Ye's age, he was all about keeping it creatively classic instead of safeguarded by standards. In my opinion, Ye went extra left with "Love Lockdown", and it could go down as one of his great, unfinished, undefined masterpieces that sank soon after sailing off the shore, unless the remix is extra wavy. And who's he going to get, other than T-Pain and Lil' Wayne? This one is way too predictable.





Before you try to pull my hater card, just know that I am a fan of Kanye, just as I am a fan of Cam'ron and Senator Barack Obama. All three are bricking something awful right now, and it's hard to cheer when you're alone in the bleachers, waiting for the seemingly extinguished fire to show some sparks of life. But I'm not saying that the next Kanye single won't be fire. I'm just saying that it'd better be, or it's going to be a cold winter.

Kanye, as a fan and a critic, I'll let you call me two-faced if I can call your new song wack as fuck and a half-assed attempt to steal Zapp & Roger's trademark sound, like T-Pain has done, with updated voice technology. Here's a free tip for aspiring artists thinking that "the robot thingy" is the way to recording industry success: If you can't sing, don't. Pardon the harshness, but I've always believed that an artist's biggest fans have the right to be the biggest critics, because they're brutally honest.

TUPAC IS DEAD; THUG LIFE IS NOT

The Don Makaveli, a.k.a. Tupac Amaru Shakur, passed away twelve years and four days ago at 25 years of age, from still-unclaimed bullets in the streets of Las Vegas. We can't bring him back, yet we've continued to study his every move in life and death (and in the minds of some, his resurrection).

He said himself, in an interview with Vibe Magazine, "Thug Life to me is dead. If it's real, let somebody else represent it, because I'm tired of it. I represented it too much."





The man was a cult of personality, but he died way too early and for a cause that has still not quite been identified or taken up in a positive way--let's be honest. But the truth is even more tragic; it's 2008, and "Thug Life" lives on without it's founding father. Guns are still used for us, by us. Drugs are sold in similar fashion. Prison sentences await those who take either path, and boys remain boys as girls become women. Fathers are invisible, futures are bleak. Civil rights are revoked, voter registration fails. And tomorrow's soldiers remain stuck in the ageless trap of being righteous thugs.

Don't blame Tupac; blame our insistence on reincarnating the worst side of mankind through his name and image, over and over again. And the best way to avoid manufacturing more thugs for nationwide distribution, fueling the continuing state of mental, spiritual and financial poverty in the black community is to let the man rest in peace.

LITERATURE IS DEAD

David Foster Wallace, a great writer, IS REALLY DEAD. He wrote several books which were highly acclaimed and was considered a prodigy of literary undertakings. He was 46, married and a college professor. And he hung himself in his house this past Friday.


Great writers are mentally effed. I'VE SAID THIS BEFORE, and by God, I'll probably be proven right many more times before somebody says it about me--if I'm not already too late for that. But the genius-creative personality has always been something I've been drawn towards. For some reason, I could sense, by watching the video above, from where Wallace was trying to come with his thoughts. To be honest, I felt sorry for the person behind the tortured, beady eyes. You could tell that something was bothering him at the very moment that the cameras were rolling. His face and body language were sort of silently screaming, "But I'm being serious, people!" And then he shrugged and sank back into himself, realizing that people don't understand truth as much as they laugh at it.


What does this have to do with Hip-Hop, you ask axe? Well, Wallace once said that rap music was "quite possibly the most important stuff happening in American poetry today," [*] and he wrote a non-fiction book called Signifying Rappers: Rap and Race in the Urban Present, which if you didn't know is a NOD to the original gangsta rap pioneer Schoolly D.





I can dig this Wallace guy, and not just because he's dead. Moreso because he seemed to be on the same wavelength as me and other writers I respect and found success. That is, of course, pertaining to his ability to express his views with words, and not in his ability to hang himself. Some things I'd rather not know if I can accomplish, and killing myself is in that number.


YOU CAN READ an article, masterfully written by Wallace and published by the New York Times, about tennis champ Roger Federer OR check out a tribute written about him and see that dude was pretty official. R.I.P. to another great writer of the world, and knock another nail in the coffin of current creativity in its fearless form.


It's strange how this is always the type of subject that brings me out of hiatus. Hey, somebody's got to pick up the torch, I guess...


*SOURCE QUOTE: AMAZON.COM

HYPHY IS SCREWED

The news is that Bay Area rap star Mistah F.A.B. is "BEEFING" with the local Oakland Hip-Hop station, KMEL-FM. This is just another chain of events that sparked the creation of this new post, oh my brothers and sisters. Let's investigate the phenomenon of drug-promoting music and its accompanying culture as they relate to specific places on the American map.

Whether I'm a big fan of "Hyphy" music or not, you've gotta admit that it's dead, at least outside of Oakland's ungerground rap scene. As long as we're being honest here (and I don't know why we wouldn't be), most regional sounds that were sold as the next big things a few years ago are all dead.

I mean, look at "Screwed" music, and compare it to what happened with Hyphy. Both of these subgenres of Hip-Hop have been in existence long before some rich white dude decided to cut a mainstream check and put them both on. Representing Alabama, Georgia and Tennessee, I can attest to the fact that I've been hearing screwed mixtapes for close to fifteen years via cousins that visited Texas in the summer. It's nowhere near new. But what was new a few years ago was when Houston rappers Mike Jones, Chamillionaire, Paul Wall, Slim Thug and others started getting major record deals, one after another, all on the strength of a combined 12-month run of consecutive songs - all of which broke the local mold and went from regional to national recognition.

I admit, I was as proud as anybody else from the south that another state was finally getting its just due, as it were. But I also admit this: Screwed music sucks.





I never understood why people liked listening to rap songs that had been "screwed and chopped." Every time I've been forced to listen to any Screwed song for more than 15 seconds, it's always been depressing, sleep-inducing, boring and just... slow. Too damned slow. That shit would drive me to the depths of insanity if I ever got nabbed by terrorists and told that I'd be tortured with a 24-hour private Screwed and Chopped listening session if I don't snitch. I'd confess to all types of shit I've never even thought about doing to get out of that one. And I'd say that Gangsta Rap made me do it.


Once Screwed music got outside of its natural habitat, it was a wrap, because, like Hyphy, it was built upon pillars of salt, or should I say "snow." You can't expect a whole nation to become localized to your city unless the music is that good. Country music comes from Nashville, Bounce music and of course Jazz both come from New Orleans and The Blues were born in the Mississippi Delta. They all spread throughout their regions to national and worldwide ears, but there is a distinct difference: These subcultures are build around actual rhythms, beats, sounds, harmonies and melodies. Without great songs and plenty of great artists down for the artistic cause itself, it just doesn't happen. It's gotta be about the artform more than the afterparty, and both had better be better than anything experience previously if you expect the story to spread. And I'm not saying that Miles, Dizzy and Bird weren't getting loaded on the daily, because we all know how that story goes. But they were still great musicians.

Every city has it's own style that can't (and maybe shoudn't) be made global, especially when you add in the quietly kept secret that - gasp! - Screwed and Hyphy music are both really about doing massive amounts of drugs and being proud enough to sing and dance about it, out loud.

Compare and contrast: As the soundtrack to the lifestyle of codeine and promethazine abusers, Screwed Music was made for Texans who sip "syrup", the mixture of the two drugs combined with Sprite, Big Red soda or any other sweet, carbonated ghetto beverage. Rap artists, taking cues from the "slab rider" culture of Houston, drink it in public and continue to make songs glorifying its consumption, even after it killed one of its most famous rappers - Pimp C.




In Oakland, Hyphy was created as the musical companion to taking Ecstacy pills or "beans", and the subsequent erratic speech, dancing and general behavior. To be high on E-pills, therefore, was to be "hyphy." Some of the Hyphy stuff I heard was nowhere near wack, but it was always a bit too crunk for my blood. And you've gotta be high to want to do some SHIT LIKE THIS. "Go dumb," indeed...





I've pretty much held the same stance against Hyphy since I figured out what it was about. You can't have any type of positive message in a type of music that outright encourages drug use. Now before you even try it ("But what about Gangster Rap?"), I would argue that the social commentary that exists in the Thug Life style of Hip-Hop is necessary to show that people are economically suffering to the point that they would risk their lives and others' to make a dollar. So they pick up a gun and do horrible things.

I've always felt that if you make the terror of the gangster lifestyle look as ugly as it really is, you will save some people from ever wanting to enter it, even if you attract those who would wanted to be gangsters anyway. I never wanted to be a gangbanger after listening to N.W.A. - not once. But it was cool to hear their stories, accentuated by gun shots, excessive swearing and less-than-romantic ideas about women. To me, it's the same as watching No Country for Old Men; it's crazy, entertaining as hell and a great piece of art, even though it's gruesome to the point that I wouldn't have wanted to be in any character's shoes in real life.

The only way I'm convinced that a person can have any positive influence from Hyphy or Screwed music would be to suffer a complete meltdown, go through intensive rehabilitation and emerge from the ashes of doom like the Phoenix. Either that, or the artist just overdoses and dies, causing enough grief from fans and guilt in the hearts of close associates to spark a movement of sobriety, removing all the momentum from the power of the drugs and placing it back in the hands of the people to create things that don't cause mental damage and self-genocide.



It's my theory that the reason why TEXAS MIGHT BE DEAD and HYPHY IS REALLY DEAD is because you can't mix narcotics with your music and expect everyone to follow mindlessly forever like the living dead. Eventually, people wake up and realize they've been drugged. And then what?


But I can't front; THIS SONG is still dope. But if you listen closely, it's not all happy. Just listen to the chorus...

LEGALLY-DEAD MCs

I'm late like a pregnant MILF on this, but just for the record, Da Brat, aka Shawntae Harris, aka Lisa Raye's adopted sister, IS LEGALLY DEAD.


Ms. Harris, known for being introduced to the Hip-Hop world by Jermaine Dupri as the older sister of Kris Kross and the female answer to Snoop (Doggy) Dogg, was sentenced to three years in prison for assaulting an employee of Studio 72, Dupri's club in Atlanta Tucker, GA.

Side note: The recipient of the bottle to the dome was also an Atlanta Falcons cheerleader.

The rapper and a half-dozen family members all broke down after hearing the sentence.

"I love y'all," she said to her relatives as a deputy hauled her away, the Atlanta-Journal Constitution reports.

"We love you too," her family replied in unison.

SOURCE: US MAGAZINE

Harris is also known as a "good friend" of Mariah Carey. I wonder how this will affect the relationship with Nick Cannon. Better yet, I wonder if Mariah, Jermaine, Lisa or any of Brat's other famous friends will have any pull in getting an appeal. So far, it seems like it's being accepted as the way it is.

For the record, I actually always thought that Da Brat could rip any female artist (nolo). Remember the "No One Else" remix, featuring Lil' Kim and Foxy? Those were the days when women were on the rap music come-up. Now? Well, all three of them can call themselves convicts. Sexy? Not at all.





UPDATE: I'm hearing rumors that the sentence got reduced to a year and a half, and they're trying to get it down to 1 year. Good luck with that. Keep your head up, Brat. And tell J.D. to drop a mixtape or something soon, so the buzz will be sustained. What buzz?

THE KING IS DEAD

Elvis Presley kicked the proverbial bucket on August 16, 1977, the exact same day that my best friend WHITE JESUS was born. Tell your favorite redneck; spread the good word. And tell him that Hip-Hop killed Elvis's legacy and Michael Jackson boned his daughter. See, I'm not a fan. Although I do respect the dead, that whole nice guy thing dies if said dead person had a racist reputation that was "never substantiated." Yeah, right.

In 1957, despite Presley's demonstrable respect for "black" music and performers, he faced accusations of racism. He was alleged to have said in Boston, Massachusetts: "The only thing Negro people can do for me is to buy my records and shine my shoes." Presley always denied saying, or ever wanting to say, such a racist remark.

SOURCE: WIKIPEDIA

Oh well, who cares now. I can forgive him, I guess. I mean, didn't Hip-Hop forgive Eminem for dropping the N-bomb a few years ago? It's only right; after all, it was more than 50 years ago when Elvis went Kramer. Times were different. You could call a spade a spade back then, I guess...

But just to be a prick, here is one of my favorite clips from Eddie Murphy's Delirious. Ha!





R.I.P., Elvis Aaron Presley. Maybe it was just a lie. Or maybe it was never meant to be made public that you didn't really care for the company of African-Americans. Whatever. I'm still not a fan.





"Elvis was a hero to most/ But he never meant shit to me
To millions, a straight-up racist/The sucker was simple and plain...
Mother-f*ck him and John Wayne!!"

Public Enemy - Fight the Power

THE OZONE AWARDS ARE IS DEAD

Trae tha Truth punched Mike Jones in the face? Southern rappers are beefing? Rick Ross had his goons manhandle DJ Vlad - all down in Houston at the Ozone Awards? Really?!





I absolutely don't care. It's probably a good thing I wasn't there in Houston for this event. I still have some issues with a few people who attended the show, and I'd rather not start an epic fight outside of the venue. Trust me, if I get punched in the face a'la Mike Jones at an awards show, there will be metallic repercussions. Even though I have more than a few friends who were down in Texas attending Julia Beverly's cottage-cheese rendition of a black awards show, I declined to attend. Look at everything I missed...





So I'm passing off the torch on this one. The homie Maurice Garland wrote a recap of the show, and he's obviously not as slanted against the machinery of false cultural representation as I am. That was a joke.

CLICK HERE to read Garland's take on the 2008 Hozone Ozone Awards. In the meantime, here is another take on the truth from Trae. It's funny how snitching on yourself is the new album promotion. Oh well, that's why southern Hip-Hop is where it is today - half in the spotlight, half in the coffin.





And you probably wonder why I spend so much time writing about politics...

DAMN. (Even More Flowers)

I know you know, because everybody knows. For the record, I just figured that we should take a few extra days to remember Bernie Mac first. I mean, damn, two in one week? This reminds me of 2006, when THIS happened, immediately followed by THIS...


But alas, here we go. Isaac Hayes, pioneering soul man, IS REALLY DEAD. I needed a minute just to properly process the weight and depth of two separate deaths in the black community. I know, I know; black people die all the time. High blood pressure, blood sugar levels, drugs, AIDS, cancer, strokes, etc. But I don't think it's cool for black people to keep dying at or before the age of 65. And I don't always mean to make things seem so b/w, but these are huge losses for the hood.


I am afraid to wonder if too many people at or below the age of 21 are only going to remember Hayes as the voice of South Park's Chef. So let's examine a few of the other achievements and notable moments. He was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2002. He is the man who composed and performed the Shaft theme, which won an Oscar for Best Original Song. He was one of the main songwriters, producers and session players for Stax Records, the Memphis answer to Motown. He starred in movies, television shows and parodies. He had a charitable organization. He went bankrupt in the late seventies, losing the right to future royalties to anything he had already written or performed. He went through the hell and high water of the industry and persevered long enough to remain an immovable object - a timeless legend. An icon of soul.





Oh, and by the way, did you know that both Isaac Hayes and Bernie Mac are going to appear, alongside Samuel L. Jackson, in the movie Soul Men, which will be released in November of this year? Did you know that people are saying that since "Death comes in threes," another famous black celebrity - this time, possibly an actor - will be next to pass? Maybe they're thinking it'll be Morgan Freeman. Maybe Sam. I choose not to think that way. Maybe those who ponder the death of others should just kill themselves and avoid having to share the earth with those they choose to envy. Stop praying on another man's downfall, please.


And now, for his final encore, here's my favorite song from Isaac Hayes, "Walk On By," which was re-filmed for the movie Dead Presidents in 1995.





R.I.P. to Isaac Hayes. This guy was a giant. Oh, and one more thing: If he died worth anything less than $10 million dollars, may his trespassers die a thousand times.

NICOTINE ADDICTION: HARD TO KILL

I'm in my second night of smokeless life.


It's crazy how easy it is to stop inhaling tobacco smoke if you distract yourself with work, exercise and other alternative activities. I'm one of those people who thinks that smoking cigarettes is an oral fixation more than a physical addiction; eff what science says.

I've stopped smoking cigarettes before, for almost two years actually. The only thing that made me start back was a bad incident hundreds of miles away. I was powerless at the time to do anything to stop it, so the only option I felt I had was to smoke some Newports.

Free advice: Don't smoke Newports, especially when you've quit smoking for more than a year. I literally felt a cloud of death overtaking my chest from the inside after the very first pull. It is a feeling I never want to have again, because it was like Satan himself had entered my arteries and lungs, laughing and shouting, "Yes! I've got your little mulatto ass now!" The cigarette did nothing but start my nicotine dependency all over like a bad relationship with a revolving door.





Smoking is a nasty, disgusting, dirty and stinky habit. But when I'm smoking a cigarette, I don't have a problem with that. Especially when I'm drinking and in front of my laptop. But after recently realizing that my strength, endurance and breathing had been badly affected by the constant cheap smoke, I decided to give life another try.

So I'm going on the lam again. Running away from the Parliament Menthol Lights. I'm not missing the nicotine as much as I miss the activity. I guess I'll practice the saxophone, write another blog, fold some clothes, download some music, organize some important files, return some emails... damn. I guess there's a lot to be done. And maybe in a couple of days I might even be able to take my ass to the gym and finally get rid of the lingering baby fat I've carried for 30 years.


If anybody has any other suggestions for a successful end to my seven-year tobacco habit, I'm all ears. Until then, I'm just going to find some shit to do and wait until the itch is gone. Wish me luck.

REALLY DEAD MCs

Damn. Another one bites the bullet(s).

According to SOHH.COM, NEW ORLEANS RAPPER SPORTY T IS DEAD. He was killed in a monsoon of AK-47 gunfire in his FEMA trailer while he was sleeping.

Is this the promised outcome for pioneering gangster rappers? What happened to getting chubby and moving to Miami? Why did he deserve to be killed in such a vicious way?

Who knows. All I can say is that I wasn't at all fooled by the atmosphere of the French Quarter when I was in The Crescent City during the Essence Fest. I knew better than to take my out-of-town ass through the lower 9th ward. It's not my turf, and I'm under no misgivings that I am welcome anywhere in the world. Especially the destroyed housing projects of the world's murder capital. And as you can see, I'm still alive.

Now I suppose I should post a video or something that shows Sporty T doing his thing. Here's a YouTube joint of his group, The Wild Boyz, dissing Cash Money back in 2000.





Pretty funny, I guess, but I must say that Baby had the last laugh. It's 2008, and Lil Wayne is still outselling Coldplay. That's major.



R.I.P. to Sporty T. Hope you get everything in heaven that should have been yours on earth.

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"

SIGN OF THE TIMES

In case you've been purposely avoiding the real world, President Mugabe of Zimbabwe was sworn in again this week, after *allegedly* losing the presidential election, forcing a run-off and then rigging the election.

Here's what a cartoonist employed by Time Magazine thinks about it all...




Question: Why is Bush considering sanctions against Zimbabwe instead of doing one of the famous "regime changes"? Oh yeah; he stole an election (or two) in his day as well. Almost forgot...

GORDON GARTRELL RADIO: AM/FM IS DEAD

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.


CLICK HERE TO HEAR GORDON GARTRELL RADIO.


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.

“SO, WHY 'THE UNDERWRITER?'"

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!

THE EXECUTIVE IS DEAD

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.


CLICK FOR AUDIO RESPONSE.


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.


DEADLY QUOTE:
"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.