THE MOURNING AFTER…

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

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

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


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

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


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

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

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

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

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


3. DON’T BE A HOT BOY

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

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


4. BRING CASH (WHERE IT'S SAFE)

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

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


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

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

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

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


6. GO TO THE CONCERT

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


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


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

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...

THE ESSENCE OF DEATH: THE UNDERWRITER INVADES NEW ORLEANS

Sorry to spring this on you, oh my brothers and sisters, but your faithful and humble homie is OUT CHEA IN NEW ORLEANS for the Independence Day Weekend and the annual Essence Music Festival. And it is already going down - something serious. I couldn’t pretend to remember how many drinks I’ve sipped or chugged since 8 p.m. Central time, including the one sitting next to my laptop as I post this blog. But I’m feeling quite righteous, and I can’t even say that it’s all due to the free-flowing alcohol.





There’s something special about The Crescent City. Sure, it’s a dirty, filthy, shitty, stinky, swampy mosh pit of wet, dripping, moldy, ass-smelling poop water, but it’s still one of the most beautiful places in the world. New Orleans is one of those places that, when you visit, you feel immediately jealous of everyone who's from the city, even if it is basically a death trap for poor people who celebrate and dance in the face of death. They have their own language, their own style, and eff what you heard; second lines are crunker than the club in any city.

Back to the point. I’m sitting here at my sound-proof suite at Hotel Underwriter (The Ritz-Carlton on Canal), finishing my lukewarm Heineken and giving myself the proper ten minute break from my next beer to consider just what needs to be covered during my trip. Here are some story ideas I’ve come up with so far:



THE 9TH WARD (How much progress has been made? The French Quarter looks just fine, but is it really back to normal?)


BOURBON STREET (The street band was illie.)


HURRICANES (The drink, not the natural disaster. I vote yes.)


THE DIALECT (I haven’t heard so many “whoadies” in years.)


THE ESSENCE FESTIVAL (Oh yeah; there’s a concert in town! Who knew?)



Yeah, it seems that the gods have either smiled down or screamed up at me with all these amenities. I got hook-up tickets to the entire three-day festival, which includes Frankie Beverly and Maze, Kanye West, Chris Rock, Mary J. Blige, Rihanna, Jill Scott, Chrisette Michelle, Chris Brown, Patti LaBelle, Musiq, Morris Day, etc, etc, etc. The room at the Ritz is on company money, and most of the food is going to be provided. It’s going to be a great weekend for music, eating, dancing, clapping and celebrating in the birthplace of jazz.


That is, if I actually make it to the venue at all. I’m on some Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas shit this weekend, in the sense that I might not even make it to my own assignment due to out-of-town drunken fuckery. Not at all in the sense of having a briefcase full of ether, mescaline and weed. That seven-hour dolo drive from Atlanta shook me up something horrible, and I wouldn’t have considered bringing as much as a half-smoked roach on the road in the rental with me sike. I’ve never, ever, ever-ever-ever, taken a road trip and seen as many police pulling people over, so just making it to the N.O. without a $300 traffic fine was just fine with me. Thank God for cruise control and seat belts.





But regardless, I will come up with a story to tell, and it’ll probably be waaay better than what actually happens at a music festival produced by a magazine for elegant, mature women of color. I just don’t see it being as crunk as Bonnaroo, Lollapalooza or even Summer Jam or Birthday Bash for that matter, but I could always be proven wrong. We’ll see. Trust me; if something unexpected happens, I’ll give you a first-hand report. Unless I’m too busy drinking Hurricanes and eating gumbo on Canal and Bourbon to actually be there when it occurs. So there it is. I’m on a much deserved vacation, yet I’m still on the clock as a writer since our work is never over. I've always believed that a writer never really works, but never really has a vacation, because he or she is always doing both at once.


But I’m going to stay throwed off the bourbon, hurricanes and a stomach full of ABITA, the locally-brewed beer of New Orleans. So you can rest assured that I’ll be in creative think-mode throughout the journey, but I'll try not to lose focus. I mean, am I here to entertain myself or do the job?

Wait, I forgot; I’m not getting paid for this. So it’s definitely the former.



“I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death…”


BTW: EVERYBODY OUT CHEA IS BUMPING THA CARTER III.
I’m just saying…

KENNEDY IS DEAD; OBAMA IS ALIVE

I'm sick and fucking tired of hearing that Obama might get assasinated. I mean, really, Bush is still alive, so I don't see why Obama should be worried. If I've learned anything in the last eight years, I can say to my children that it has been proven - even if everybody hates you, you can stil be untouchable if you have friends in the highest of high places. So make sure you're connected, or the writing is on the wall...





But fear not, oh my brothers and sisters. Obama has had Secret Service protection for more than a year. If you'll remember, it was a big deal at the time, because he was the first presidential candidate to ever receive such security detail so early before an election. But it was a clear message to radical militias and general nutcases of all races: f you think you're killing him, you're more than an dewshbag - you're a dumbass. To be honest, I don't even know how close the S.S. is watching the Senator, but I would assume that you're safer around Obama than if you were a black man walking by yourself through Iowa. Therefore, a conversation about the likelyhood of his assasination before (and hopefully during) his presidential administration is a discussion that I'm frankly not willing to have. A wise man told me, "Don't argue with fools."


In my opinion, which might as well be fact, Obama will win this election by a landslide. But that's just me. Everybody else seems to be worried that Obama will face some type of OCTOBER SURPRISE, which is the new fear tactic being promoted by the "vast right wing conspiracy" (whuddup Hillary!). IT'S NOTHING NEW; for decades it has been the strategy of the republikkkan party to use terrorism, crime, nuclear holocaust, abortion, religion, "patriotism", torture and, of course, racism, to fuel their bitter constituents' fears and to rally the rednecks behind a political party that would always try to protect them from having to change with the times. But at least you and I know that the list of fear tactics in the republickin' playbook (nolo) goes on and on, as it has for generations.



Back to the point; everybody is associating the hype and historical relevance of Obama to JFK. I agree that he has all the charisma, character and promise of change that the Kennedys once embodied. But now, as it seems that we might lose the scion of the Kennedy clan to cancer, people are going to need something new. They require a person bold enough to stand in the shoes of greatness at a time when no one else believes it is possible. America needs somebody brave enough, and with enough security, to call the right wing bluff and bring some balance back to our broken planet. And we don't need anybody who's too scared of getting shot to execute change.


My definition of greatness is a state of being that lets a person go beyond contemporary boundaries, higher and further than anything in his or her circumference. Maybe Obama can't stop a bullet, but he represents an idea. Like Che Guevara, Martin Luther King Jr., JFK, RFK, Malcolm X and even Biggie Smalls and Tupac Shakur, it's already too late to stop the legend from being passed along. Might as well see what he can actually do. And if I had to name one reason why I admire him, it would be because I think he has almost no fear. Because the whole idea of this new reality we're living in is some wild shit stuff anyway. I can't even lie and say I saw this coming two years ago. Oh well, that's how revolutions go, I guess. The idea will always outlive the idealist. Word to Guy Fawkes.





Kennedy is dead, but his legacy lives like Che Guevara. Obama may not be Che incarnate, but he's definitely Kennedy 2.0. Upgraded, elevated and educated. Plus, he's raised more money. Can we just agree that this election is over, already?

Or here's a better question:

If America defaulted on that promise of "40 acres and a mule" for former slaves, and if reparations are out of the question, and if Juneteenth is a black American holiday that most white people have never heard of, and if Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton never got this far, and if McCain is 114 years old, and if Barack was the first black president of The Harvard Law Review (couldn't have been easy), and if Hillary couldn't beat him, and if Bush isn't the worst, then why the fuck are people so afraid of letting this guy, the obvious underdog with overwhelming appeal, have his chance at running the country without the janky-ass suggestion that, simply because he's black, he can't be allowed to win or he'll only end up dead before we can even see that change that we can believe in?

Man, don't get me started...


If the man loses, he loses. Let's not speculate any futher. And remember, I live below the Bible Belt, around rich white people. So if I seem like I'm salty, I'm just sharing my experiences in Cobb County, GA, with you. Hopefully the political climate for debate is better on your side of the world, because sometimes it's hell out chea in the South. But, judging from the recent cover of Rolling Stone, it doesn't seem that Obama is much worried at all...





You gotta love it.

NAS IS A SURVIVOR

See, I’m old school Hip-Hop, but not at all an old head. I can appreciate what the youngins are trying to do with it, but nothing beats some classic lines and lyrics from the rap era when it was all about quality. Cats like me throw out one of my favorite rap lines when having a conversation with BUCKMEISTER FULLER or WHITE JESUS, two of my best homies. Cat like you, I call you a “gladiator.” Word to Killa Cam.


Here are just a few of the lines that I might use at any given moment when dealing with music industry dewshbags. Especially when the time and the wine are right. This time, we’re taking liner notes from the boy Nasir, who’s Nigger Untitled album has a FIRM RELEASE DATE of July 15. I don’t want to cover too much old shit, because the youngin’s can’t relate. But here are a few of my favorite recent quotables from Nasty Nas that I think bear repeating for the true Hip-Hop heads out there. Not counting The Nigger Tape, his most recent mixtape with DJ Green Lantern. I figured I’d give you a reason to even check it out, if you’re really that late on hearing it.


Hell, I might as well help promote something worth listening to. You can ask axe anybody - The Nigger Tape is pretty damn dope, so I expect the new album to be HD. I’m excited. It’s gonna be a hot summer.


“I squeeze nipples like pimples
To get the pus – get it?”


“Nazareth Savage” – Street’s Disciple, disc 1
(That might be a triple entendre right there, if you think hard enough. Nolo.)


“The lane was open and y’all was droppin’ that garbage shit
Y’all got awards for your bricks
It got good to ya
You started tellin’ the bigger dogs to call it quits?!
What?!!”


“Carry on Tradition” – Hip Hop is Dead
(Seems aimed at Dipset; makes sense too)


“Miserable cats, hunger painin’
Get off your ass, stop complainin’!
My crew be in Montego Bay
Macarenin’
Marinatin’ while you home,
Waitin’ your arraignment…

…Certain cats they wanna kill me,
They ice-grill me,
But on the low,
Niggas feel me.”


“You Gotta Love it” – The Lost Tapes
(I love it. Self-explanatory; haters need a life)


“Ma, I’m sorry who the fuck I am
I can’t trust my fans
Out of luck, no constructive plans
My friends stay powdered up
I’m so drunk, can’t stand
You said if I would sober up
I’d be a powerful man.”


“Stillmatic Freestyle” – Unreleased
(This song, over the "Paid in Full" beat, rattled Jay-Z into making “The Takeover”)


“Sometimes I can’t help but feel helpless…
I’m having day-mares in daytime
Wide awake, try to relate…

…Human beings like ghosts and zombies
President Mugabe -
Holdin’ guns to innocent bodies
In Zimbabwe...
They make John Pope seem godly,
Sacrilegious and blasphemous…”


“Road to Zion” – Welcome to Jamrock (Damien Marley)
(Shows you how Hip-Hop actually pays attention to politics and humanitarian crises)


“You can’t revolve me, embalm me
Calm me or harm me
Rob me or dodge these bullets I’m bussin’,
See, that’s malarkey you yappin’
I open up the tri-pod
And put the Gatlin on,
And I start clappin.”


“Hustlers” – Hip-Hop is Dead
(I’m also a fan of The Game. Shit talk can be wildly entertaining when done correctly)


“Puttin old niggas verse the yougin’s
Most of our elders failed us
How can they judge us?”


“Be a Nigger Too” – Untitled
(An ill line on many levels… even my Mom agrees)


Good artists, real Hip-Hop artists, deserve better support, publicity and promotion. This way, they don't have to die first to get the cover of your favorite magazine. Word to Jadakiss.

"You know dead rappers get better promotion."