STRATEGY IS DEAD

There's a lot of talk today about this whole debate debacle, as Governor Sarah Palin faces the world in a test of preparedness against Senator Joseph Biden of Delaware.

No one expects Biden to "lose" this debate, which is highly dangerous for him and why you might have noticed both political parties playing down expectations. The wisdom is that if you handicap your player and publicly predict a low performance, even alluding to the possibility of a loss, you will easily come out on top without having to exert very much energy or intellect.

Everyone—even Palin—knows that Biden is the better, smarter and more qualified candidate. But no one knows how bad Palin will be against him. There are many risks, which include a PR nightmare scenario for Biden: he could forcefully prove that he is better, smarter and more qualified, thus causing a sense of resentment. Nobody likes a know-it-all, and everybody loves the underdog. America is huge on victims and charity.

So if Biden engages Palin, he runs the risk of looking like a father, which would also immediately transform him into an old, chauvinist misogynist by default. "Who does Joe Biden think he is, dismissing a woman so fervently?" I can already see Elizabeth's lips flapping tomorrow morning on The View, and it's not at all as if I plan on watching The View.



You can see what type of dilemma that Biden is in, and how millions of Republikkkan lackeys, flunkies and surrogates are prepared to spin this into a victory for Palin no matter how badly she fails tonight. So there's only one way that Biden can soundly rout Palin in their one and only VEEP debate:

He's got to surrender.

Yes; the senator must hold back his mental arsenal of foreign policy, economics, law, social issues, education, energy and anything else he knows that would warrant an answer to any of Gwen Ifill's questions longer than two sentences. We already know that the campaign of Senator John McCain is trying to DISCREDIT Ifill because she has written a book called Breakthrough: Politics and Race in the Age of Obama. If it is perceived that she is tossing journalistic "softballs" at Biden, it will appear as if GOP commentators were correct in assuming that she was already in pocket as an Obama loyalist and supporter. If he answers a question exceptionally well, Republikkkans will yell that the fix is in. Sheesh… at least McCain finally came out and admitted that Ifill, highly respected as an objective political journalist, will probably do a great job, as always.



On the other hand, if he decides to limit his answers, it will put pressure on Palin to best him. If she rambles, she will slip. If she keeps her answers similarly short, she will look like she's following Biden's lead because she is incompetent and has no answers. If she answers them correctly and blows everyone away with her understanding of the issues, she will still be less qualified as Biden, because no one with an I.Q. over 60 could possibly believe that he is not ready to step in at a moment's notice.

Biden will win regardless, but public relations can be a bitch to control, and you'd better believe that those wacky, Kool-Aid drinking Republikkkans are already preparing their victory statements for the morning news shows. Palin is a nincompoop, and it doesn't take an intellectual bombardment from Biden to expose this. Allow her to be the cause of her own political death, and she will most certainly euthanize herself on the public stage, proving to everyone that she never belonged behind that podium in the first place.

The best strategy is a non-strategy. If Biden follows my advice, I guarantee that he will have slayed the "LEVIATHAN OF FORENSICS" without having to raise his voice. And you can bet that if Biden walks away clean, the conservatives who were once all too giddy with the pretty lady from Alaska will attack her themselves, or simply decide as early as tomorrow that they cannot support the GOP ticket in November.

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

THE OBAMA CRUSADE: Day 38 - I’M BRAIN DEAD

Alright, I'm back. But bad news: My mind is blown. It's so bad that I have foregone any attempt at being productive, so I will settle for being effective and just share my mental breakdown with you, oh my brothers and sisters.

These are the thoughts runnin’ through my mind, in no particular order. Seriously, I am stunned at the choice of Governor Sarah Palin. I can barely focus on things I need to do because this is absolutely crazy and unexpected.

Here’s the randomness:



• Be not confused; this is GREAT for the Democrats. But I just can't understand how the Republikkkans would kill themselves like this.

• Today is John McCain’s birthday. He turned 72. That means that if he were to serve a full 8-year term as POTUS, he would leave office at 80. I have no words for that.

• Governor Sarah Palin is 44. She is a first-term governor of Alaska and has 2 years on the job.

• I can’t believe this…

• The term I keep hearing on the news is that the vice-president is always “a heartbeat away” from the presidency. When running for POTUS, a VP choice would need to be ready to assume the responsibilities of Commander-in-Chief at any time. Huh?

• CNN’s Jack Cafferty absolutely roasted Palin on Wolf Blitzer’s The Situation Room today. As he said, the Republikkkans gave the Democrats "an early Christmas."

• Remember that America is involved in the War on Terror, which has us bogged down in Afghanistan, Iraq and could take us into Iran very soon. Does she have any – any – foreign policy expertise? I know she's a member of the NRA, but does having a gun mean that you can run multiple wars and the economy? WTF?!

• The job she held before being elected governor was mayor of a town in Alaska that has less than 6,000 residents. Westbumba-clat, Alaska, I believe is the name.

• …………

• There is only one tactical victory for the GO-Pee in this spectacular moment in historic political fuckery. Nobody is really talking about Obama. Not even me.

• This has fried my brain. The only fear I have is that since this is so unexplainable, it might have the effect of a mass lobotomy, and we will all become walking zombies, mental vegetables, and just start agreeing with everything. Jesus, this is so random.

• Senator John McCain just gave the Democrats the gift of political victory over the GOP, hopefully for generations and not just four years. And it's his birthday, not ours.

• ??????????

• Governor Palin is under investigation in her state, for possibly having a role in the firing of a State Trooper. The trooper was her brother-in-law. Nothing corrupt about that.

• Desperation is so unattractive. The Republikkkans have no game at all. What is this woman doing in this party? She is kind of cute…

• Imagine the Vice Presidential debate, coming soon to your favorite television news network. Trust me, if you’ve never trusted me before: Senator Joseph Biden is going to effortlessly take her apart – no question. All he has to do is ask her on live television to tell him anything about anything in the world.

• On the low, this is insulting as hell to women. Maybe on the high. McCain basically said, with the national microphone, "Look here, bitches: I picked up this strange married MILF from Alaska. So vote for me, because all you broads are the same anyway. Oh, and don't get pregnant accidentally anytime soon!! We ain't havin' it, but you are!!!"

• !... ?... !

• This is what you call political pandering, and my guess is that Senator Clinton’s “Hillraisers” support group is going to see right through this as soon as the Democrats begin to mount their assault.

• Seriously, I just knew that the GOP would make this harder. I’m shocked. Happy that they made the wrong move, but disappointed at their stupidity and taking all the fun out of the game.

• ??!!?

• I agree with David Gergen. It should have been Mitt Romney. That would have made sense. How would you feel today if you were Mitt Romney? You know how much chee$e that fool spent trying to be McCain's flunky? FAIL.

• Republikkkans have got to be nervous as hell.

• Wow. She's a journalism graduate. Journalism is dead.

• I gotta call my Dad and my older brother. I know they’re tripping as well.

• I need a drink.

• They say that Palin hasn’t even been “vetted” by the media yet. God, how bad is this shite going to be??

• She came in 2nd in the Miss Alaska '84 pageant. Damn. But, like I told the homie GARLAND earlier, I can’t front. Palin is thick, and I would beat.

• ! ! ! ?

• Jesus. Obama and Biden won’t even say anything bad about her. That’s smart; they don’t even need to. They can let the rest of the world wobble on its axis today and just remain cool. See, that’s why I like Obama. Cooler heads prevail.

• Meltdown… We are witnessing the meltdown of a major political party... My brain is farting…

• The only president to take the oath and enter the Oval Office older than McCain was Ronald Reagan. You know he had Altzheimer's.

• I have to leave this house, or I will suffer complete and total mental collapse.



I’ll be back later. Maybe not until tomorrow. Help me, Jesus. Help me, Tom Cruise.

THE GAME - L.A.X.: The Autopsy

I'm into true west coast gangster rap, because nothing else comes as close to the ugly realities of true life. And though some of you will doubtless disagree, The Game is, in my op, the best representation of Californian g-rap since the days of DJ Quik, N.W.A, Above The Law, M.C. Eiht and Westside Connection.

Tell the truth; Game practically bodied the entire G-Unit movement by himself just out of sheer will. His style has always been sort of the Pacific Coast yin to Curtis Jackson's Southside, Queens yang. Both have always seemed ready to be as disrespectful as necessary to lyrically embarrass their enemies, but when the two turned against each other, Game proved to be the better rapper, if not the smarter businessman.

L.A.X. continues the process of describing the City of Lost Angels to all outsiders. Like The Documentary and Doctor's Advocate, L.A.X. is heavy on the Dre-inspired soundscape, yet once again Dr. Dre makes no appearance behind the boards on production. In his place, Scott Storch (who needs the money), Cool & Dre, Irv Gotti, Nottz, J.R. Rotem, DJ Toomp, Hi-Tek and Kanye West all contribute some very high-def beats for Game's usual "I'm a Blood" steelo.





From the moment you hear DMX praying on the "Intro," you get a certain feeling that maybe God really does love the gangsters and vice-versa. X goes in pretty heavy with the prayer, giving the listener the idea that if he ever put down the microphone in the name of rap and picked it back up in the name of Jesus, without picking up the (you name it - pipe, blunt, bottle, needle, car keys, etc, etc...) again, he would probably have a congregation that would go far beyond the spiritual travesty that your boy Mason Betha pulled. Very dramatic and strangely appropriate.

From then on, you get what you expect. Game shows off his bounce-flow on "L.A.X. Files," which has a guy with a weird sense of tuning singing the chorus, but somehow it works out. From then on, the guest appearances start to flow in, with 'The Don Mega' Ice Cube showing up on the hook for "State of Emergency," Raekwon the Chef trading verses on "Bulletproof Diaries" and "My Life" featuring Lil' Wayne, which I can't get out of my head. Say what you will about Young Carter, but he can make your song pop if he really wants to, and the T-Pain device works well with him on certain tracks.

I have several favorite songs on L.A.X., and I've only been listening to it for 12 hours. Right now, my choices are "Ya Heard" featuring Ludacris, "Never Can Say Goodbye," "Cali Sunshine" and "Dope Boys," which knocks major. As a matter of fact, the only song I'm not really digging thus far would be the main single, "Game's Pain," featuring Keyshia Cole. Sure, she's fine, but that doesn't mean I have to be a fan. I think she's a little overrated, personally. Plus, I don't get the part that's supposed to be painful. Why didn't they name the song "Homage?" Whatever, I guess. But that doesn't mean I think it was a bad move to put the song out first. Black women love Keyshia, and so does urban radio. Can't call it stupid at all.

"Never Can Say Goodbye" and "Letter to the King" serve as the albums' two best songs for their creativity and depth, where he raps about the deaths of Tupac, Biggie, Eazy-E and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., respectively. Nas guests on the latter, as well as donating his vocal to the only interlude on the album, "Hard Liquor." "Angel" is another fly one that I played repeatedly on the drive from Atlanta to Birmingham this afternoon. And nobody can deny Chrisette Michelle, so "Let Us Live" wins on G.P. While I'm not crazy about Neo on a Game track ("Gentleman's Affair"), I do like the conflicting message. And let's face it: Game is known for being somewhat schitz.





Overall, by the time you get to the 19th track, DMX's prayerful "Outro," you shouldn't be mad at the Compton MC who has made his own way without significant assistance from Dr. Dre or 50 Cent since his debut album. L.A.X. is solid, and it will keep anyone from saying that Game was a flash in the pan, even if this really is his last LP as he has said. Hopefully, with the quality of this new joint, The Game will put the pistols away, stop with all the suicidal innuendos and realize that the game needs him.

SOBRIETY IS DEAD

[Me, right now, after last night's horrible fourthmeal choice]


Still recovering from last night. Here's some free advice: Don't eat collard greens at 4am, on top of 100 ounces of Heineken and two shots of Patron. Your stomach will lock up like San Quentin and you'll be in bed for 24 hours, like me right now.

Speaking of getting overthrowed, here is a clip that I've been waiting for, even though I didn't expect to see it remixed like this. I don't know if you watch Intervention, but it's one of the best shows on TV. It really doesn't get any realer.

The last episode I saw was about a girl named Allison. She's far from your average geek monster. I mean, this chick is the biggest fiend that I've seen thus far. Hell, I didn't even know that people actually got high off inhalants after the 2nd grade. That's up there with sniffing glue and breathing in unleaded gas fumes. I just don't get it. These people never heard of the chronic? Way safer, that's all I'm saying.

But anyway, here's the clip.




Kids, don't do drugs. Those things Allison sucks are meant to blow the dirt off your computer keyboard. Legal or not, you probably don't want your lungs to freeze and shatter inside your chest.

Where are the Reagans when you need them?

LEGALLY-DEAD MCs

Here's what happens when you try to legally represent yourself as an attorney in court, and you realize that you've dug your own grave. If all else fails, feel free to pull the fake heart attack card.


So classic I had to jack it (nolo). Please people, let professionals do their jobs. Shout out to Fresh over at C&D. As she said, this deserves an NAACP Image Award for "Outstanding Fuckery in a Daytime Drama." Hilarious.

BACK 2 LIFE... BACK 2 REALITY

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

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





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

Nolo.

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

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

Thanks again. Good night. See you tomorrow?

DEAD-I-CATION

If you noticed, I've been conspicuously absent from the blog game in the last month. Why? Well, it's a mixture of salty feelings, bad time management and lack of inspiration. Of course, there's been plenty of bucket-kicking going down in the entertainment industry, as always, which I noticed and allowed to pass. Others have taken up the slack, which I greatly appreciate.

But now, I hesitate to say that I'm all the way back on my game, but I'm definitely getting back in the groove of thangs. It's funny; every book I've read recently that deals with career goals and such (The 4-Hour Work Week) has flagrantly suggested that I stop spending so much time online and focus on a book, if that is indeed the goal for which I'm aiming to meet. It gets difficult to stay away from distraction, but it also intensifies my focus, I can't deny.

The only blog I haven't checked recently is DALLAS PENN. That's because Billy Sunday pretty much always stays consistent, even when I don't check in. Good writers aren't usually that persistent. Hats off to the homie.

Other blogs I eff with would include anything on my blogroll and a few others, like DAILY KOS, DEFAMER and a few others. I don't really dig most mainstream blogs other than Bossip, because they all tend to share info and re-report things that others discovered, as if they found the info themselves. I do the same, but damn! If that's all it takes, then why the eph am I not rich yet?

MEDIA TAKE OUTwould be a great one, if they didn't put up pure bullshit and wait for someone to discredit their reporting, which is all innuendo anyway. I guess their mentality is that it doesn't matter, as long as they have millions of readers. Quick to misprint public and private business, then retract back for deaf ears, and think it's dismissed? Pa-fucking-thetic. Word to OutKast. But at least they're consistent, which you haven't recently seen from the homie THE UNDERWRITER.

That's why I'm in the middle of a ATL divorce. I've left my 12-year wifey several times, and yet I always find my way back into the city's shitty panties, just because I was too lazy and too entrenched to move away. I tried going back to Alabama and to Tennessee, with no long-term luck. Every time I felt that was that, she called me right back, and I answered. Owatayfooliyam.

But now, I'm really, really, reaally sick of my surroundings; totally, dude. It's so bad that these days I get invited to free shit all the time, with free drinks, food and celebrity dewshes of all sorts. But these socialites and celebritits are no more deserving of their influence and small pond fame than the nameless hooker that served Governor Spitzer with a $4K dirty sanchez buffet.

I'm deadicated to being a writer, but I'm so sick of being nice to assorted prick ticklers who don't pay like they weigh. That doesn't include you, my dear reader, so I apologize for getting my contacts twisted. But really, haven't you ever felt like you've helped hundreds of people, and nobody turned around and said, "Preshate it," or at least, "Let me return the favor?" (nolo). Well, that's my mojo right now. Ain't no love in the heart of the reaper, because my crops are looking dry as fuck right now, all because I haven't been all the asshole I can truly be (nolo). But I am still, underneath all this UNDERWRITER drapery that I wear on the net, a cool cat that likes to associate with other ill creatives. Plus, I'm THE BEST WRITER ALIVE.

So, for the record, until I get my shit right, I'm only putting up one blog a week. That's supposed to be the format anyway, but sometimes I get crunk off those funny cigarettes and go for minez, on some prolific fuckery type of shit, like I have miles to go before I sleep. Right now, it's a recession, and not just in terms of the economy. As the main writer of this blog, I'm supposed to keep the good times rolling, but I'd rather be honest and tell you, oh my brothers and sisters, that sometimes, even THE UNDERWRITER gets a little pissy and wants to walk away. It's human nature. Fortunately, again, I'm still
THE BEST WRITER ALIVE, and soon enough, I just might prove it in hardback form.

Until then, keep checking in. Don't say I don't keep it 100.

C'entanni, bitches!

CREATIVITY IS DEAD

Writers are mentally fucked. It’s not a theory; it’s a given. In my case, maybe you noticed that I took something like two weeks off from blogging. Let’s just say that life caught up with me recently, and there was absolutely no room for recreation. Of course, the title stays in the South, so everything’s fine and dandy now. I’m now back on my happy, creative bender.







But that brings me to this point. Why, I ask axe myself, are people like me so damn aggy sometimes? If I may speak for creative types, and I can, we’re always upset and brooding about something, and even though some great writers that I know are always cool and congenial, I can always find multiple frustrations in their eyes. And I understand; sometimes it takes a lot to be creative; other times it’s nuuuthin’. But to all things, there is a season.

This leads me to one of today's lead stories on AOL.com, which for some dumb ass reason is still the internet homepage of your homie THE UNDERWRITER. I’m looking at the normal sensational bullshit that AOL puts in it’s news headlines, and I see a link for a story on J.K. Rowling, the billionaire Harry Potter genius. Come to find out, this chick actually CONTEMPLATED SUICIDE.

Think about that. A woman who is now one of the richest in the world was convinced that her best option, during the fuckfest of life known as her “twenties”, was to say, “Fuck it,” and self-kick the proverbial bucket. Again, think about that. There would have been no Harry Potter. There would have been no billions. There would have been no famous J.K. Rowling.





That made me curious, so I Googled the phrase, “Famous+writers suicide attempts,” and was surprised at what I found. CHECK IT OUT, if you are interested in seeing how many pioneers of creative and intellectual thought actually believed themselves to be losers. For good measure, HERE'S ONE MORE. As it turns out, the best writers tend to be bipolar, like that “journalist” dewsh-tini, Michael Jordan. That dude is fucking crazy – take my word for it. But I can say with true faith that he’s never thought about committing suicide, because the idea is supremely stupid to him. At least in my opinion; not his. Jordan thinks he’s THE BEST WRITER ALIVE. I think he sucks, but at least he’s not a quitter.

But you might be surprised to find out how many of the most celebrated authors and writers of all time were mentally fucked. Is this a pattern, you ask? Does this mean that creative people are crazy? Should you hang yourself with a tampon string tonight?

Homie, I don’t have all the answers. All I can tell you is that Michael Jordan, being the moron that he is, is no fan of euthanasia, and THE UNDERWRITER is immortal. So, unfortunately, it looks like we’re stuck with each other for life. But it is somewhat comforting to know that sick minds think alike, and great minds are mostly fucked. Reassuring, to say the least.

As THE BEST WRITER ALIVE, it takes a lot of energy to extract myself from craziness as it occurs and to stay focused on this blog. The goal is to finish the book I’m writing - this year. Other goals are there, such as going back to school, leaving Atlanta (for a looong time, if not forever), becoming debt-free and moving out of my own shadow. My sincerest apologies to those who expected more from me in the recent past, especially with all this political fuckery, tornadoes in Atlanta, bullshit rap beef and even real Hip-Hop festivals going on that I could have been speaking on. But give a black man a break, for God’s sake. The business of dead shit is never over. Everybody deserves a vacation every now and then, especially when it’s your job to deliver the death toll. I like to think of it as a cycle. I can’t be too positive or negative for too long without needing to stop and smell the dead roses.

So go somewhere and get a life, you weirdo. And thanks for being a mental patient.





I’m back!!! (as if I ever left this bitch, huh baby?)

THE MYSPACE FILES (nolo) - VOL. 1

This was the last blog I wrote for Rupert, Tom and Co. From this point, I'm probably going to go backwards from the final post to the first. We'll see if it makes sense, a'la Jay-Z's Reasonable Doubt concert in NY last year. If it is not clear, don't fret. It just means that your comprehensive reading skills are shot to shit. Which is ok with me, oh my brothers and sisters.

STEP YOUR MIND UP.

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

Last Call for Alcohol
Current mood: satisfied
Category: Life


I could talk about so many things right now. Politics, Hip-Hop, family, friends, enemies or just any type of sheer fuckery that I might come up with at the last minute. This is, after all, my last blog for the year.

I had several ideas. One was to create a short fictional story about a writer having to choose between his "tool" and his "weapon." After little personal contemplation, I decided to save that one for commerce. Not to belittle the people who read these blogs, but I really have to save something for the cash register, don't I?

Before I started writing blogs, I had no idea that they were really as powerful as they are. I just kept hearing that they were going to take over the media, in one way or another, and it didn't take too many bellweathers for me to get involved. I'm glad I did, because to this day I keep being surprised at how many people read what I write on this page. I have to assume that at least 25% of the readers don't even have Myspace pages, but they read it and pass it along to other people.

Another reason why blogs are important is because you would never have heard about the Jena 6 or any other outrageous injustices going on in the modern world without bloggers. People just like you and I, who decided to put their thoughts into the mainstream without having to be edited by censors, corporations or conglomerates. While you were sleeping, power came back to the people.





But still, this blogging stuff can become consuming. Every time I experience something new, my instinct has been to share it with the world. I don't think there is a problem with that, but I do have an issue with somebody, somewhere, making a brutal shitload of money from people like me who are willing to contribute intellectual property to a middleman. Please believe that Myspace's founders, Tom and whoever else, made a killing - not only from the sale of the website to Rupert Murdoch's NewsCorp (which just recently bought The Wall Street Journal - pay attention), but also by simple advertising. Who wouldn't want their product or service in front of a hundred million confused young people who post pictures, personal information and blogs for the world to see, just for their own amusement?



(YOUNG RUPERT MURDOCH - CAPO DI TUTTI CAPI of the American Media)


Are you following?

Forgive me if I sound cocky. I admit that I come off that way a lot, even though I'm neither arrogant nor conceited. I don't have time to act like I'm better than anyone else. If I really want to be recognized for being different or special, it comes from hard work and dedication. Nothing else, except of course living a life that would make God and my mother proud. But if I do sound cocky sometimes, it's only the natural reflex of me having to dig within myself for my original confidence. I didn't come from being anything but hard-headed, but that's what got me where I am today. I don't always listen, but when I do, I make sure I hear everything. So when I say something, I tend to believe it.

I'm too good for Myspace.





I've been allowing this great internet site to distract me from devoting my time to my own possibilities. And contrary to what we've always heard, it's harder to break a good habit than a bad one. I never felt like any of my time or ideas or honesty had been wasted in these blogs. I've felt more like this has helped me to grow a lot more than I can probably see right now. But the time has come to close up shop.

I'm going to go into withdrawals similar to an alcoholic as soon as I wake up tomorrow. It doesn't seem like I'm saying enough, and already I can tell that I'm going on, and on, and on... But what more can I say for free, for now? God knows I'm not financially comfortable enough to give away free samples forever. Is that what Microsoft did? Starbucks? Sony Music? (taking a deep breath...)

Sidney Poitier told me something one day, a few years back, while we were walking on the beach in California (REAL TYPE).





He told me that I needed to understand the words "providence" and "serendipity." He explained both words individually, then made a point about how they fit together in a perfect order. Using them wisely, once understood, would give me the best direction for my life that was available. He didn't invoke God, he didn't try to make himself seem like an authority and he didn't try to over-explain. Simple and plain, he told me that anything worth having is worth working and waiting for. Some things are worth eternity. And some aren't worth tomorrow.





I (still) get a natural buzz, just rememering that whole scene. I hadn't been drinking or smoking, but I remember feeling high and drunk off of life. I remember being ready to come back home to Alabama, ready to face the adversity. All along, I had asked God and myself, "Why me? Why haven't I gotten what I deserve for doing so many good things?" Suddenly, I was struck with a new question for myself. "Why not me? What makes me so special that I get to break tradition and avoid the hard work that predates recognition? Isn't it a prerequisite to maturity to go though the trials of being a young, confused adult?"

That decision to face life has proven to be both the worst and best thing that I ever experienced. It made me focus on my own pain, my own stuggles and my own fear. It made me confront reality. It made me start waking up earlier and working later. It made me stop seeing people as victims and start seeing them as sleeping giants. And it made me respect time, truth and the concept of dedication to a life's work, even through the adversity.

Now that I've turned 30, I feel like I have a license to be exactly what I want, without having to accept anyone's opinion or feedback if I don't feel that it is constructive. I'm on a positive kick for the rest of the year, and if that means I have to retain my thoughts just to concentrate my energy, that's just what the eff I'll do.

Remember this until the next time I write something publicly: I am no different from you. I write because it is the best way to release my cluttered and long-winded thoughts without being interrupted or misinterpreted. We all have natural talents. Once identified, it's up to us to draw the line and say, "This is my career, or at least the best chance I have to change my life for the better in the short term." And before you know it, the short term becomes the long haul, and you've retired with a lovely house, a beautiful wife and a family of adorable kids. And there's money in the bank, food in the refridgerator and new ideas to discover, even as you go into your eighties. Life can be good, but only if you make it do what you demand.

So that's it. Thank you from my gut for reading so much insanity. Look for a book next year. And to wrap it all up, here are some of my favorite quotes:



"Without a struggle, there can be no progress." - Frederick Douglass

"The future belongs to those who prepare for it today." - Malcolm X

"One cannot hold a man down in a ditch without remaining down in the ditch with him." - Booker T. Washington

"A little less complaint and whining, and a little more dogged work and manly striving, would do us more credit than a thousand civil rights bills." - W.E.B. Dubois

"Every man and woman is born into the world to do something unique and something distinctive and if he or she does not do it, it will never be done." - Benjamin E. Mays

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." - Maya Angelou

"I am not going to die, I'm going home like a shooting star." - Sojourner Truth

""Tremendous amounts of talent are lost to our society just because that talent wears a skirt" - Shirley Chisholm (an ill quote on many levels...)

"What God intended for you goes far beyond anything you can imagine." - Oprah Winfrey

"No matter how far a person can go the horizon is still way beyond you." - Zora Neale Hurston

"Those that don't got it, can't show it. Those that got it, can't hide it." Zora Neale Hurston


Signing off...
(static.......................................................)

YOU'RE ABOUT TO WITNESS A MASTER AT WORK...

For the record, I used to do my Myspace thing. My Myspace blog - not just my Myspace page - had thousands of hits before I quit. I say that conservatively. But when I heard that Rupert Murdoch was buying out Tom and the other partners of Myspace, I decided to take my talent elsewhere.



My argument is this: Why the eff should I spend my hard-earned mind power on something that will financially benefit a right-wing billionaire? Am I the Alan Keyes of Alabama?

Hell no. I'm Michael Jordan from Alabama, and I'm an I.Q. tested genius. No disrespect to the "special" people out there, but some of y'all are too "special" to be excused. Others of you understand that a mind is not only a terrible thing to waste, but it is also a beautiful and infinite thing to expand and nurture.

One of my former adversaries called this undertaking of mine a "vanity blog." Maybe it is. We'll never know, because I'll never tell. But what I am willing to share is my thoughts on real shit in this real world of ours. The earth is suffering. Minorities are going through so much drama that they're no longer asking for help, which is not necessarily a good thing. White people are even feeling the pressure (see the stock market for proof).

Here's the problem: If poor or underpriviledged people don't express disdain or say that something is wrong in this society, it usually means that they are taking survival into their own hands. Which can be deadly, like life itself.

So here's what you should expect from me. I have a plethora of posts that I think should be shared. Not because I want comments, but rather because I think people should see how a writer thinks. Is that vain? If so, that's fine with me, as long as it helps the greater movement.

Whatever you think it is, I agree. So just be happy that you have something interesting to read on a consistent basis, or at least something to hate on. With this plan, along with my penchant for coming through on a literary bender every two weeks or so, you should be quite satisfied.

THE DROUGHT IS SO OVER.

THE DROUGHT IS ALMOST OVER...

Shout to DALLAS PENN.

To those wondering what the business is, sit tight. Patience is a virtue. I'm not quitting; I'm reconfiguring. The blog is changing, like draws and priorities. When I check back in in a few hours, it will be the beginning of round 2. Bet that.

Thanks for staying tuned. And thanks for being able to read. It makes a difference.

Yours Truly,

Michael Jordan
a.k.a.
Jihad Ballout
a.k.a.
Michael J. Focks
a.k.a.
Mickey Reagan
a.k.a.
Baby Bear (don't ask...)
a.k.a.
THE UNDERWRITER.

A World Without Writers = Hell

You, unlike me, might like to watch TV all the fucking time.

You might even find the stale jokes on modern television satires, sit-coms and African-American minstrel comic variety shows to still be funny, twenty-something years after the ideas were first stolen, then re-introduced to our society, then manipulated by corporate executive board members into everlasting money machines for witless stockholders and commercial advertisers.




I have a great respect for comedians, because they have always been brave enough to say something super fucked-up, knowing that you'll probably just laugh their jokes off as harmless comic relief from modern life. But secretly you agree, because these jokes are true, which makes them funny in the first place, I guess. These are our great orators and public speakers, because they are willing to expose their scariest creative thoughts to the public, knowing that they are nothing more than water cooler folly for the next work day. And nothing sucks like being a genius among Gumps, especially when they don't get the pun of your jokes and you never see the monetary benefits from being brilliant in your craft.





Some of our generation's dead greatest comedians first introduced the ideas of racial and cultural differences to society as grounds for comedy, just to have them stolen and abused, over and over, by the corporate suit society that controls modern media. Maybe that's why I support the writer's strike going on in Hollywood right now. Not just because I'm a writer, but mostly because I believe in equal pay for equal work, especially when it comes to creative minds. Whether the business counts blacks, Mexicans or women as its underling employees, we as "the talent" shouldn't be considered as just "help", at least in my opinion. We drive commerce.





You see, the truth is that Hollywood and the entertainment industry as a whole - not just comedy - is a comedy of errors, and the creative society has been essentially re-selling the same jokes around for the last forty years, acting like we can't come up with anything new. In my opinion, this is mostly because the writers want more for their hard work, which they deserve. Ask Dave Chappelle. 50 million just ain't enough. Put another zero behind that bitch's ass, and then I might hit it for life. If not, go get another welfare-happy sucker, because I want more for my mind - especially if you're getting 500-million for my ideas and I'm stuck with a measly 10%.




The truth about this whole stand-off is that the business is changing, and the suits don't want to include the talent in their estimates of incoming cash flow. They want us to be ignorant, yet the writers are infinitely smarter than them, so we figured out their scam and decided to rebuke their offer of little-to-nothing. We figured that it's high time to renegotiate those old-ass contracts so that they reflect the age of the internet. But of course, the suits will never go fully along with overturning power and financial freedom to the creatives. We're just not capable, at least in their minds, of keeping the lights on while pondering the next great gift to the entertainment media community, so they say. So the geniuses of new ideas will always be at odds with the prodigies of the old money establishment. But that's the great war anyway, so who am I to act like I won't fight for my freedom? If my ancestors did it - under hella worse circumstances - who am I to fuck tradition up?





I knew you'd understand. And if you don't, I always knew you were an imbecile.

Creative minds come with deep issues, oh my brothers and sisters. Better yet: uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. You already know my opinion on this one; the writer is the landlord. Without my shit, Mr. or Mrs. CEO, you have no floor upon which to stand.

Oh yes, THE UNDERWRITER is just that arrogant when it comes to his craft, and I figure that you should get like me. My advice for new writers is simple; get behind (nolo) any talent that you possess that can uplift you from the depths of society's sicknesses. I mean, the elites killed Jesus back in the day; why the eff wouldn't they destroy Hip-Hop and urban culture's finest? Hollywood is burning right now, and all the liquor in the cabinet couldn't make an arrogant Hollywood powerbroker capable of creating a hit television series on his own. The creative pen burns eternal, and if you won't invest in a Montblanc, you'll be stuck with a Bic.





There are at least two partners involved in the development of any successful new entertainment idea - those who fund it and those who create it. In the entertainment business, those who make the production connections sometimes feel more important than the very talent upon which they rely to make shit happen. Which is fucked the fuck up, if you ask your homie.

It is the ultimate negotiation point that without the creative minds of the writers, the enterprise of entertainment would wither and fall. So pay like you fucking weigh, bitches. I can write something that I own for free, whether I get paid or not. Tell that to the home audience.


Signed,
Michael Jordan
"THE UNDERWRITER"

New Hip-Hop Obituaries ...... The Drought Is Over.

Wanna hear something fucked up? Good. That's generally the vibe of Hip-Hop right now anyway, so at least you're in good company.


A few weeks ago I wrote a blog. Since Thanksgiving, I've been on a proper vacation from eulogizing Hip-Hop culture, trying to figure out just how this blog is going to be formatted in the new year. Like before, I was planning on writing a new obituary for doomed Hip-Hop stars every week. Then, like the tap water in Georgia, the drought sunk in and there was little to nothing to write about. So I started focusing again on the book I'm writing, while finding something else to do with my scythe...



But how the tides would soon change... Unfortunately for us all, the drought of death in Hip-Hop is always temporary, is it not? Looks like there could be plenty of work for me in the new year if things continue the way they're going.

Let's run it back, shall we?


CAREER-DEAD MCs:
Saigon





It's not like anybody really cares if he ran from Prodigy and Mobb Deep on the night when Prodigy styled on him onstage and he retorted with a Vietnamese knuckle sandwich. So this altercation actually could have gone far in the promotion of his upcoming album. I mean, that "punch you in your face" music only works if you really do it and the crowd can see it happen.

Instead, Saigon apparently became discouraged by shifty music industry policy, missed release dates and probably the lack of a major hit single that could service radio (nolo). And publicly bickering with your label head/producer can't be good for business either. Whatever the case, he posted THIS MYSPACE BLOG announcing his resignation from the rap game.

Sure, we've heard it before, but now it's such a cliche that we as fans are probably hoping it's true. I mean, if you're going to be believed when you speak, at least keep your word and keep it consistent. The worst thing Saigon could do would be to release a new mixtape next week. On the other hand, waiting two more years until he stops feeling some type of way about his contractual situation won't help him to create a buzz either. So...





Let's face it. Only a few of us really care anyway, which really shows that this might have been the best move.

Sayonara, Saigon. Sorry to see you give up so soon. The game needs real MCs, not quitters.

Oh, and speaking of Mobb Deep...


LEGALLY-DEAD MCs

Prodigy




Since it was officially announced that the Mobb Deep MC was going to have to do a three-year bidsky for... whatever, gravity seems to be weighing in. Prodigy has spoken out on radio about his sentence, and how the government is turning him into Malcolm X.

At first, this sounded like some premiere P-Double bullshiite. Then, just a few days ago, he goes and RELEASES THIS SONG. Needless to say, this one is on par with Mos Def's classic "The Rapeover" for it's unabashed truth and lack of fuckgiving. Fan of the man or not, you have to admit that Prodigy is a unique rap artist who can always come back with a dope song, regardless of how many times he's been robbed.

Keep your head up, P.



REALLY DEAD MCs:
Pimp C




This one is crazy. I wasn't as much of a fan of Pimp as I was of Bun back in the days when UGK were the true underground kings. I'm talking back in the early nineties, when other regions outside of The Souf were listening to either Snoop, Biggie, Twista or whoever was close to them geographically.

In Alabama, Georgia, Florida, Mississippi, Tennessee, Arkansas, Louisiana and every other state along the Gulf Coast, Pimp C was that dude. I almost didn't want to admit that I thought Bun B was the better rapper, because people would look at me like I didn't know what was up. I'd get the side-eye, like, "Ok, little dude. Yeah, Bun obviously reads more books, but Pimp is the rawest cat in the game. End of discussion."

I know a lot of cats, from my friends to my favorite southern rappers, are feeling like this is a major loss. They're right. As we see, every notable urban magazine was starting to quote Pimp c for his relentless pursuit of the code of honor among d-boys. Since so many rappers essentially stole his style, you can easily say that he left behind a slew of stepchildren in the rap game. Not all of them will represent him to his own level of personal standard, but at least we'll get a shitload of tribute songs, unreleased recordings and remixes.

You know what Jadakiss said on "We Gon' Make It"...


Rest in peace, Pimp C.

Stay Trill, Bun-B.

UGK For Life, and even in death.


EXTRA:

"Smoke sum'm, bitch."

DEATH BECOMES YOU - This Week's Obituaries

In memorandum of the fallen rappers, either in real life or in career existence, let us pause to recognize two examples of how trill it is in the field...

Really Dead MCs:
Stack Bundles


He got SOULJA SLIMMED in the Big Apple early this week. Lupe and Capo both expressed their remorse.

Is it me or is Bol right; nobody cares?

Not because life isn’t precious, but rather that everybody expects rappers to die, like they know that every day an American soldier will be killed in Iraq. Casualties of war…

Career Dead MCs:
Ric-A-Che



THIS PRICK had the old woman anthem of the summer in 2004. This song had a large impact on my current philosophy of the music industry – buffoonery sells. Plus he sounded like somebody’s grandfather on a weekend Cialis/whiskey bender. I can’t front; for a long time I thought he looked LIKE THIS.

To pay respects to the deceased, please CLICK HERE and leave a comment or something. Notice no news announcements since 2004…

THE DEATH OF BITTERVIBES?

Bittervibes , the infamous yet elusive Vibe Magazine insider who helped bring down Mimi Valdez, the overpaid, overhyped groupie... oops... editor who ran the ship into the iceberg, appears to have given up her now pointless rage against the machine. Ever since Danyel Smith took over, Vibe seems like it's at least on the road to recovery, even though I can't imagine magazines winning again like they used to...

What was the last magazine title you purchased, when and why?