ALTERED BEAST - THE REINCARNATION

"Rise from your grave!"


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





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

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





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





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





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

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


Viva la Vida!

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

THIS WEEK'S OBITUARIES

You already know what time it is.



CAREER-DEAD MCs
Kwame Kilpatrick.

I know you can't die twice, but today it became official. With the loss of his law license, a 4-months sentence and a 7-figure fine, it's safe to say that the saga of the "Hip-Hop Mayor" is finally done. The "D" just got a little less cold.




LEGALLY-DEAD MCs
Kenneth Smith.

I don't have a photo of this guy, but according to THE SMOKING GUN, Kenneth Smith was arrested on September 3 for wearing baggy pants. The legal charge is "exposure of undergarment in public." He is a first offender, so under the law in Florida, where he was charged, he faces a $150 charge. If caught three times, he could be sent to jail for thirty days. America hates Hip-Hop.




REALLY DEAD MCs
Don LaFontaine.

In a world where you can make your own career path, enjoy notoriety without having to show your face and reap great financial benefits, Don L. was the king. He died on Tuesday from complications from pneumothorax, which is a collapsed lung that causes air to build in the pleural cavity. Whatever that means. But hey, he was a microphone fiend, and his voice is famous as hell. That's Hip-Hop.




HISTORICALLY-DEAD MCs
Mother Teresa.

The Queen Mother of spiritual pursuits left us on this day, September 5, 1997. Though there have been recent reports that she QUESTIONED HER BELIEF IN GOD, she is still widely remembered as something like a living saint while she existed among the living. Even in death, she remains highly influential and a beacon of hope for those who believe in the power of love over the love of power.




Life is a celebration. Enjoy ever minute. Tomorrow is promised to none of us, so accomplish something great today so that we will still be talking about you tomorrow.

C'entanni!

WAKING UP THE DEAD: THE TUESDAY MORNING ALARM CLOCK

To you, this post might have nothing to do with anything, but to me, it has something to do with everything going on in the world right now. You see, the most recent album by your favorite rapper is ony going to last 3-6 months. The flyest video you're going to see in the next week or so will only last until the beginning of winter, and that's if it's really good. That's a short lifespan, and it's only getting worse with more and more people calling themselves rappers and less shelf space available for old rap records. But classic Hip-Hop is immortal. Believe that.


R.I.P. Scott La Rock (Boogie Down Productions)


The problem is that our culture has been hijacked by hermaphrodites and hookers of harmony who don't care what type of music they make, as long as that music makes money and provides for another fiscal year of trickery and financial fuckery. This is probably where "making it rain" comes in, leaving the lower class feeling left out of the loop, wishing for a watershed moment when the odds are even and the ears and eyes of executives are open and exposed. Everyone wants his or her own time to shine, even if it is restricted to fifteen minutes; it's hard not to be a critic when you're riding in a Civic. Best thing to do is stop talking it and live it.'


"This one is for Dilla"... R.I.P. Jay Dee



Like Erykah said on "The Healer," our culture is bigger than religion, "my nigga" and the government. I would add that it should be bigger than money, but that remains to be seen. There are, however, some things that will always be bigger than Hip-Hop, such as life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness freedom.


Quiet as it's kept, Hip-Hop is even bigger than death. Some of our most beloved heroes have found everlasting life through their musical legacies. Word to Big Pun and Buffy of The Fat Boys, who were both big as hell but aren't here to see the new morning with us, like J. Dilla and Scott La Rock.







We're at the dawn of a new day, and all it takes is a majority of believers to overwhelm the minority of haters. But we can't get there if you sleep through your damned alarm clock. So climb your tired ass out of bed and join the movement of the living - those of us who care more about contributing than collecting, ones that are more interested in legacies than liquid assets.

REALLY DEAD MCs

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross died on this day of 2004. You may have no idea who she was, but she was something like an authority on all things dead. Her classic book, On Death and Dying, first published in 1973, confronted the experience of dying and turned Kübler-Ross into an overnight world celebrity. She is considered to be responsible for the success of the medical movement known as "hospice." So big she was, in fact, that Time Magazine named her one of the "100 Most Important Thinkers" of the 20th century in 1999.

Seems only right that she gets a tribute four years to the day that she found out whether or not she was right about her life's work.

She wrote MAD BOOKS.

She received HELLA AWARDS AND HONORS.

She was covered by THE NEW YORK TIMES.

Hell, I even found a STREAMING NPR INTERVIEW.


But just in case you're feeling lazy or just plain uninterested, here are a few quick quotes that I found interesting...

"It's only when we truly know and understand that we have a limited time on earth -- and that we have no way of knowing when our time is up, we will then begin to live each day to the fullest, as if it was the only one we had."

"We run after values that, at death, become zero."

"Those who learned to know death, rather than to fear and fight it, become our teachers about life."

*All quotes: Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. R.I.P.

REALLY DEAD MCs

The Shogun of Harlem, Julius Carry III, IS REALLY DEAD.


The Last Dragon was a dope movie, if for no other reason than Vanity was in it and Berry Gordy produced it. Lest you forget, Vanity was fine as hell back in those days when she was on drugs and MAKING SONGS ABOUT GETTING SKEETED ON. Unfortunately, since she ditched Prince and found God (I didn't know he was lost), she's gained weight and lost her mojo. Ho-hum...





I've always wondered what the hell happened to Bruce Leroy. You always assumed that The Shogun just went back to being the bad MF that he was before the movie, but nice guys like Bruce Leroy don't make it in Hollywood. Either way, Bruce Leroy (too lazy to look up his real name) got the stage gaffled from under his feet whenever Sho Nuff entered the picture. Similar to The Dark Knight, in The Last Dragon the hero was outshined by the villain so much that we almost wish that the villain would get his own movie. This dude's style was so wild that Kanye even stole his swagger with the sun shades:





For his final encore, here's Julius Carry III performing the role that made him famous.




R.I.P. Shogun.

Who is the master?
I am.

FLOWERS

U.S. Representative Stephanie Tubbs Jones, the first African-American woman to represent Ohio in Congress, IS REALLY DEAD.

Rep. Tubbs Jones, who was also a member of the House Ways and Means Committee, was considered one of the more reliably liberal voices in Congress. She had a lifetime voting rating of 98 out of 100 on the American Civil Liberties Union's Congressional Scorecard. In 2003, she was one of 11 House members to oppose a resolution supporting the U.S. invasion of Iraq.

SOURCE: THE WASHINGTON POST

It can't be easy to be a black woman with political responsibilities in Washington, D.C. I can imagine one of my friends' mothers, or even my own, trying to work in an environment where you have to constantly push against a concrete dam of injustice to get even the slightest progress for the underprivileged. It seems like it could drive even the bravest soul to silence when you're always in the unseen minority.

Rep. Tubbs Jones did not let her skin color dictate her trajectory in the Congress. She worked extremely hard and had several important achievements, which you are more than welcomed to SEE FOR YOURSELF on her House website.


For her final encore, here is Representative Stephanie Tubbs Jones putting a CBS News reporter in her place for trying that pop-up-on-your-ass journalism trick. Old girl looked like she was a second away from what I call "the clap-slap."




R.I.P. Mrs. Tubbs Jones. I respect your authority.

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

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.

COMEDY IS DEAD - MORE FLOWERS

Bernie Mac, a King of Comedy and one of the most deserving recipients of fame in recent comedic history, IS REALLY DEAD. Less than a month ago he was opening the show for the next POTUS, Senator Barack Obama, and throwing out some grimy jokes that Obama's camp had to refute. Now, Obama will never get a chance to shake his hand after November 4 and say, "Thanks, Mac." Of course, Mac probably would have responded by saying, "I knew you weren't scared of those motherf*ckers."


Here are some reactionary quotes from celebrity friends who woke up today like everyone else, only to discover that Mac did not join us for breakfast.

George Clooney:
"The world just got a little less funny. He will be dearly missed."

Chris Rock:
"Bernie Mac was one of the best and funniest comedians to ever live but that was the second best thing he did. Bernie was one of the greatest friends a person could have. Losing him is like losing 12 people because he absolutely filled up any room he was in. I'm gonna miss the Mac Man."

Don Cheadle:
"This is a very sad day for many of us who knew and loved Bernie. He brought so much joy to so many. He will be missed but heaven just got funnier."

SOURCE: E! ONLINE

And for a final encore, here is a YouTube of Bernie Mac onstage at Def Comedy Jam, which was the first time I ever saw his comedy act. Dude had me dead from the minute he hit the stage.





R.I.P., Bernie. Hope you're laughing upstairs with Redd Foxx, Richard Pryor, Rodney Dangerfield, George Carlin and everyone else. I'm telling you, concerts in Heaven may be hard to get into, but they're probably worth every minute.


"Throw it up, baby...
It's Brick City, you heard of that,
We blessed and hung low, like Bernie Mac!"
Redman - Dirty (Christina Aguilera)