January 2008 Archives
Bill and Hillary, thanks for the Wake-up call..
(To my faithful readers, as much as I hate to quote an author who once introduced the world to a character named "Nigger Jim" - but "the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated"(Hence the blog inactivity) - it would seem that a certain gelatinous chimney hopper put a girlfriend in the stocking of your favorite neighborhood pre-ejaculator. Well. sorta. I have yet to maneuver my mandible and the lips attached to it to actually form the words "Girlfriend", so right now I refer to the lady in question as "The only woman in three years that I offer post coital conversation to" - that being said, on with the show.)
Historically I'm a light sleeper, a person who can be easily awakened by something as subtle as a television channel being changed or the vibrations a bed makes when a lover decides to make an early morning bathroom stop - that's why some of the harshest curse words exit my urban pie-hole whenever a person takes it upon themselves to interrupt my nocturnal emissions in a rather violent fashion. My guess is that my hatred of said practice started in the early 90's, I'd be nestled so snugly in my Michael Jordan bedsheets trying to take advantage of every ounce of sleep I could get before going through the daily minutiae of High School. My mother, a woman's who's voice was severely damaged due to a heart surgery 40 years prior - would pound on my door like she was a member of L.A.P.D's gang unit and would proceed to absolutely screech the following: "HumanityCritic!!!! Get your nappy-headed ass out of bed before I tell your friends that the mailman is your father! Just ask yourself why we get our mail before anyone else?" My "non letter carrying" father wasn't much better, his way of waking me up either had to do with him threatening me with "I'll strangle you with your small intestines motherfucker!" violence or having my face mushed into my pillow the way Ice Cube did that young woman in the "It was a Good day" video. Suffice it to say, the better part of 20 years have been spent angrily growling like a rabid dog at whoever dare wake me up with anything north of a gentle whisper or slight nudging - so lets just say that the past two weeks have prompted your favorite blogger to let out an expression of anger that only members of PETA and bestiality enthusiasts the world over could recognize.
But this time I have been violently shaken out of a figurative sleep from two of the most unlikeliest of sources, my republican brother-in-law Michael and my pan-africanist friend DanTres. When my brother-in-law would passionately try to convince me that Bill Clinton was the devil incarnate, I respectfully heard what he had to say - but took what he said with a grain of salt, reminding myself that I was talking to a Rush Limbaugh listener who probably had the ability to spout out republican talking points faster than Dustin Hoffman's character in "Rain Man" could blurt out complex math equations. DanTres would try to school me on the evils of the media, and how inherently racist the Democratic party is - I'd listen to everything the brother had to tell me, but it would never completely soak in because secretly I felt that his revolutionary beliefs made Che Guevara look like Strom Thurman. I always tell him that if we were part of the Black Panthers in the 1960's, he'd be on the front lines actually bringing about change - while I would be completely comfortable with my role proof reading speeches, and sleeping with all the beautiful sisters who frequented the weekly Black Power meetings.
But after watching the political coverage over the last month or so, I began to realize that the passionate warnings of two men from polar opposite ends of the ideological spectrum became nothing short of prophecy - its just a shame that it took Bill and Hillary to violently wake me from my political slumber.
Bill Clinton wasn't our first black president: As I've witnessed our red-faced 42nd president belligerently distorting Barack Obama's record like a drunken frat-boy, its forced me to address a regurgitated claim that you hear ad nauseum from all the media types - the "Bill Clinton was our first black president" silliness invented by Nobel Prize-winning author Toni Morrison. Granted, for years I bought that notion hook-line-and sinker as well, starting with Bill showing off his sub-par saxophone playing skills on "Arsenio" - that "right at home" feeling Bill exudes whenever he's around a group of black people, and even his harshest critics can't front on the man's oratory skills whenever he's in front of some miscellaneous black church. But when you think of Bill Clinton's failure to intervene in the Rwandan genocide, taking Sista Soulja completely out of context and turning her into the 1992 version of Willie Horton, mercilessly throwing Lani Guinier under the bus, the execution of Ricky Ray Rector that smacks of political opportunism - not to mention a "scorched earth" political campaign he's helping his wife run that's completely based on distortions and race baiting. I've heard Mr. Clinton, on more than one occasion recently, shower Obama with patronizing praise while suggesting that the junior Senator should wait his turn - a sentiment that everyone who fought for Civil Rights in this country immediately recognizes. If Bill Clinton was indeed our first black president then I guess Chuck D was right: "Every brother ain't a brother cause of color!"
Our News media is absolutely abysmal: Taking a page out of Bill Clinton's playbook and turning it on its head, the idea that Barack Obama has gotten a free pass from the media is one of the biggest fucking fairy tales imaginable. Sure, as a Obama supporter I can admit that the hype surrounding Barack after his Iowa win was a bit ridiculous - but ever since New Hampshire, you would be hard pressed to find one media outlet that doesn't either obsess over race or shamelessly promote Hillary Clinton "talking points". When the Clinton camp attacks its characterized as "good politics" and them being "tough", but when Obama counters, he's "whining", "frustrated", or how that hack Chris Matthews describes it - Bill Clinton is "inside Obama's head". MSNBC's Craig Crawford would have us believe that Bill Clinton telling a South Carolina crowd that blacks will vote for Obama isn't injecting race, but Obama somehow having Oprah simply stump for him is playing the race card - I used to think that a black man couldn't become president because America wasn't ready, now I believe it won't happen because it seems that 95% of all the political writers out there got their journalism degree's from the bottom of a fucking cereal box. I've also noticed that most of the "Democratic Strategists" that the cable networks use, individuals who should be objective when it comes to discussing all of the democratic candidates - usually end up exposing themselves as Hillary shills, apologizing for the Clinton smear machine as them simply running a "hard nose" campaign.(If Hillary becomes the nominee, and the republicans throw the kitchen sink at her - I wonder if those same "strategists" will also characterize what the republicans are doing as simply "hard nose" politics as well?) Even Keith Olbermann, a person who I usually feel is a proverbial breath of fresh air in terms of the cable news landscape, carelessly fell into the "Obama was praising Reagan" trap - a trap that could be easily avoided by using basic reading comprehension skills.
Liberals are racist people too: When John Kerry was running for president, amidst all the windsurfing and swift-boating from the well oiled apparatus that is the Karl Rove smear machine - I found solace visiting some of the most popular liberal sites, reading campaign updates and good old American political spin was akin to attending a weekly support group. When Jim Webb was running for Senate in my home-state of Virginia, the liberal blogisphere was my best friend - it was a place that provided me with hourly polling and an optimistic belief that he could beat a man who was at worst a known racist and at best a known scumbag. But as an Obama supporter, at least when it comes to some of the bigger liberal blogs that I usually depend on - it would seem that they have turned their back on supporters of my ilk, either slightly leaning Hillary's direction or unabashedly doing so. Maybe the title was a bit misleading, there is no evidence that these sites are overtly racist at all - but for a guy(Obama) who talks about bringing people together, the overall invective and vitriol hurled in his direction on some of these sites is rather suspect. You know its bad when the only high profile blog somewhat supporting Obama comes from a conservative - hat tip to Andrew Sullivan.
*Bile-filled anti-Obama Blog alert* These two miserable fucking hacks, here and here.
Some Older black folks worry me: Don't get it twisted, no one should be supporting a presidential candidate based on their race or gender - and I don't take issue with any black person who thinks that Hillary Rodham Clinton is best suited for the highest office in the land. But outside of the mysteriously angry dismissiveness shown by the likes of Andrew Young, Charlie Rangel, and billionaire house negro Bob Johnson - the older black folks that I've talked to seem to support Hillary in a rather knee-jerk fashion. While they admit that Barack Obama is talented, a skilled orator, and a source for inspiration for not only African Americans but the country as a whole - 9 times out of 10 times they express support for Hillary Clinton based on Obama's youth and the mounds of experience Hillary has over the junior senator from Illinois. Even after I point out that Obama has 4 more years of elected office over Mrs. Clinton, has as much foreign policy experience as JFK did and more than Bill Clinton(as well as being older than both ex-presidents when they ran) - they usually looked at me as if I just asked them to break down Transcendentalism, and proceeded to tell me that they are supporting Hillary anyways. *exhaustive sigh* But as I've witnessed some of the most prominent civil rights era activists support Hillary, especially considering the fact that there is barely any light between her an Obama politically - I have to ask, what in the fuck was all the marching and ass-whippings for?
"Call me Naive, but I sorta believe!"
"Call me Naive, but I sorta believe" sounds like a campaign slogan an indecisive politician might adopt, but those were the exact words that escaped my hairy mandible as I talked to my friend DanTres immediately following Barack Obama's win in Iowa - a statement in stark contrast to my previous belief that there wasn't a snowballs chance in Lil Kim's vagina that America would ever elect a black man to the highest office in the land. Since I come from a state that almost re-elected a known bigot who manufactures innovative slurs for black folks in his spare time, I'm fully versed on the doctorate degree that many Americans hold in Racism 101 - I, like so many others, felt that the spark that was Obama's presidential campaign would fizzle out faster than Taylor Hicks' career. Also, to be quite candid - my main concern was for the brother's safety - every time I'd see him greeting enthusiastic crowds I found myself yelling "Get him the fuck out of there!" as if his secret service team could actually hear me. It was akin to watching a showering blond in a 2nd rate horror flick.
But last week as I witnessed his lead widen over the other democratic candidates in Iowa during the course of the night, reminding myself that he was doing so in a state as lillywhite as a goth chick's butt-cheeks, then watching his pitch perfect victory speech that tugged at the proverbial heart-strings of a known asshole that an ex-girlfriend once labeled as "emotionally unavailable" - not only did it inspire me to throw caution to the wind in the name of history, but it also occurred to me that this is the first candidate in my lifetime that I ever felt any excitement for. I mean, in 1992 I was 18 and far from the political junkie that I am now - Bill Clinton was a good president, but my initial vote for "Slick Willie" probably had more to do with his "Arsenio" appearance than any foreign policy agenda he might have had at the time. Then I proceeded to co-sign the arkansonian based on his successful first term in 1996. By the time 2000 had rolled around I had long acclimated myself in the world of politics, the word "excitement" isn't exactly the first adjective that would come to mind whenever Al Gore's name is invoked - but it didn't take a rocket science to know that George W. Bush was as articulate as a retarded stroke victim, so doing my part to save mankind I voted for our most recent Nobel Prize winner. John Kerry seems like a better fabric of human being than George W. Bush, but voting for him was strictly done to evict a certain Connecticut native from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue - I would have voted for Carrot-Top if he was the Democratic Nominee for Christs sake, only if he promised to sporadically go to his box of props during his State of the Union Addresses. But as I started to realize that an Obama nomination would be the first time I'd be voting for someone and not against them, I immediately thought about my father - and something that has haunted my very existence ever since his untimely passing in 2001.
See, my father's tear ducts were severely underused, a two tour Vietnam veteran whose bravery was constantly co-signed every time I listened to one of his war buddies vividly describe his acts of heroism as if they were pitching a Clint Eastwood movie - and even though I was a rebellious youth, I secretly didn't want any parts of him because an altercation with the old fella had "loss" written all over it. By far the toughest son of a bitch that I've ever known. That being said, there were only two occasions that I'd ever witnessed my father shed a tear - both times had to do with his utter disgust over witnessing his Navy brethren cheer the Assassination of John F Kennedy with child-like exuberance. A man from the deep south who saw racism so intense that it makes the "but you are so articulate!" complaint seem like a petty semantic argument, had no problem wiping tears from his weathered face while saying to me "Those motherfuckers cheered because it was perceived that JFK was for black people" - even though cancer snatched my father from the mortal coil in 2001, that one episode of morbid insensitivity killed a piece of my father more than 44 years ago.
Thanks to my old man, even as Hillary captures a win from Obama in New Hampshire - this year I will get behind a candidate that I truly believe in - refusing to play the scared negro role by lowering expectations and setting up the flimsiest of straw-man counter-arguments against an Obama presidency just to spare my own feelings - as I proved by a drunk F-Bomb laden tirade I let off last night in the direction of some Obama skeptics, inspired by Edward Norton's bathroom scene in "25th Hour".
"Fuck you. Fuck you, this country, and everyone in it. Fuck our antique civil rights leaders, emerging from the shadows of three decades worth of inactivity, actually being arrogant enough to think that black people would automatically follow your lead when you proceeded to perpetuate a manufactured hesitancy about Obama. Your jealousy and unfulfilled political potential is as obvious as the outcome of a Scooby-Doo episode. Shouldn't you be somewhere obsessing over rap lyrics or the latest episode of the "Boondocks" motherfucker?
"Fuck all the conservative columnists pretending to fawn all over Obama, nothing but journalistic con men - Eddie Haskell's with op-ed articles. Newsflash: Mrs. Clever knows that beneath the insincere graciousness and shit-eating grin lies an agenda driven political kamikaze.
Fuck the liberal blogisphere, when they aren't exposing a brand of racism that they claim to reject - they're either complaining about Obama appealing to republicans and conservatives, or acting as if he's attacking other democrats when he says that he doesn't want to duplicate the mistakes of 2000 and 2004. No wonder why we stay losing, if people don't have the wherewithal to understand that a black man can never get elected without appealing to every registered voter - maybe we deserve the Bush's of the world wiping their collective asses with the constitution and urinating on Habeas Corpus.
Fuck Hillary Clinton, when the mantle of "inevitability" disappeared before your campaigns conscience did, you proceeded to execute the Karl Rove playbook with masterful precision - shamelessly distorting Obama's record and smearing the man by throwing as many smears against the wall to see what would stick. Don't believe me, where else did hear the claim that electing a new face could prompt terrorist attacks?
Fuck Bill Clinton, the first black president my ass - maybe I would have bought into that shallow notion if an intelligent woman named Sista Souljah had never been born. Not only have you tried to recklessly revise history in terms of your own stance on the Iraq war, but your main argument about an Obama presidency is that America would be "rolling the dice" - isn't that the exact same tactic they used against you in 1992?
Fuck the black blogisphere, inventing nonsensical nit-picks for not supporting Obama that come across more as nervous ticks than legitimate grievances - they provide nothing but intellectually dishonest "I still don't know who I'm voting for" rhetoric because they're either too gutless so they hedge their bets, or they think that a segment of their audience actually finds eye-rolling indecision "cool". So you'd have me to believe that, say in a hypothetical Obama vs Romney race, casting your vote would take painstaking consideration? Just kill yourself already, no one would fucking miss you.
*Burp* Bartender, how much do I owe you?"
Ed Norton scene in "25th Hour"
Man, F&%K Ron Paul!
It never fails. Every time some buddy of mine waxes poetic about some new girlfriend of his, making it seem as if she utters nothing but Winston Churchill quotables, and resembles Sade back in the days when the leading men in her videos were predominately Eurotrash - what I usually find is a woman that I actually lose I.Q points just standing besides, who would be a shoe-in for the role of "Sloth" if they ever decide to make a "Goonies" sequel. The same thing goes for music as well, hearing someone carry on about some Hip Hop group that they absolutely adore is nothing but a recipe for disaster - a delectable dish that I mercilessly devour as soon as I sample the artists music and realize that I've heard more ear-pleasing bowel movements in my day. For the past 6 months, my email inbox has been inundated with questions from my loyal readers concerning Ron Paul - they either asked my overall feelings about his candidacy or whether I planned to support him or not. Being that most of my correspondence with readers either consists of me trying to score some online booty, or chopping it up with a reader about some miscellaneous Hip Hop group - the last thing on my agenda was Ron Paul, primarily because I've never been in the business of throwing my vote in the proverbial circular file. But having done some research on the Texas Congressman, I finally have a clear opinion of the politician:
Man, Fuck Ron Paul.
Forget about his crackpot politics, I'm suddenly reminded of that Dave Chappelle quote: "What's a black man without his paranoia intact?" - and with the cloud of racism that follows Ron Paul around like the dust-cloud that surrounded the "Pigpen" character in "Charlie Brown", that's enough of a factor to provoke me to question the sanity of any black person(or anyone else for that matter) who dares bring Ron Paul up to me. First off, in his own newsletter entitled "Ron Paul Political Report", talking about Rodney King and the LA Riots in the early 90's - he said the following:
"I think we can safely assume that 95% of the black males in that city are semi-criminal or entirely criminal."
"If similar in-depth studies were conducted in other major cities, who doubts that similar results would be produced? We are constantly told that it is evil to be afraid of black men, but it is hardly irrational. Black men commit murders, rapes, robberies, muggings, and burglaries all out of proportion to their numbers."
Granted, Mr. Paul has claimed that he never specifically penned those words, that they were the creation of a "ghostwriter" and didn't reflect his personal views - even if that was true, the mere fact that someone working for him felt comfortable enough to print those words under his brand, is telling, ghostwriter or not.
Then you have the issue of the Congressman Voting Against a Congressional Medal for Rosa Parks.
Or his feelings on Barbara Jordan:
"University of Texas affirmative action law professor Barbara Jordan is a fraud. Everything from her imitation British accent, to her supposed expertise in law, to her distinguished career in public service, is made up. If there were ever a modern case of the empress without clothes, this is it. She is the archetypal half-educated victimologist, yet her race and sex protect her from criticism.
Then we have people like David Duke completely co-signing Ron Pauls writings on his own website, along with other scumbags of note singing his praises.(Hat tip to phenry) I'm not saying that Ron Paul supports these proverbial bottom feeders, but he hasn't gone out of his way to repudiate them either - and for a paranoid guy like myself, that's enough to have me running for the hills as if I was Julie Andrews.(minus the blue farm dress)
Then we have him voting against reauthorizing the Voting Rights Act of 1965 and the voter suppression bill that was Federal Election Integrity Act.
Not for nothing, but that's enough for me - so please, by the grace of god, no more inquiries about Ron Paul in my inbox. Thanks.
Humanity F Critic aka "Gordon Gartrell"
P.S ..but I have to give Ron Paul supporters some props for this though.
Album of the Year: Blu & Exile "Below the Heavens"
Every year, specifically around the final days of December, I always find myself concocting some rather unattainable list of resolutions - lofty goals so amazingly ambitious, that following a small fraction of said resolutions would make your favorite pre ejaculating blogger qualified for sainthood. My days of thriving to be a more patient person are over, virtues of that nature are reserved for Kindergarten teachers and journalists who interview Lil Wayne - not for ornery 30-something writers whose life's blood happens to be exuding bitter hatred whenever possible and welcoming confrontations from drunk strangers. No longer will I attempt to fool myself into thinking that I will become a more considerate lover in the name of some cliched list - who am I bullshitting, timing my sexual exploits with a stopwatch as if I was a track coach then lovingly whispering into my lady's ear "It's sandwich time!" are some of my more appealing qualities. I've completely abandoned the concept of eating healthy as well, it would be rather hypocritical of me to eat tofu during the day and imbibe nothing but grain alcohol at night - besides, I've kind of grown used to my ever expanding gut, not only has it become my trademark like Linus' blanket but it also shields me from the sobering reality that god didn't anatomically bless me. As for some grand illusion of me exhibiting more tact in 2008, forget about it - just last night I mistook a young lady's nationality, prompting her to angrily state: "I'm not puertorrican, I'm Filipino!!" - in which I very casually responded "Shit, you should have taken that as a compliment!"
But after hearing Blu & Exile's "Below the Heavens" in the middle of 2007, it inspired my first thoughts of the New Year vowing to be more positive about the state of Hip Hop - I have to admit that embracing such sunny rhetoric feels extremely uncomfortable for a career pessimist like myself. This time last year I would have rather sodomized a cactus plant then to look even remotely upbeat about the current plight of the music I love, wincing uncomfortably every time some blogger clumsily took issue with the phrase "Hip Hop is Dead" - sincerely ashamed that hyperbole could be easily lost on so many feeble minded individuals. Of course the music was alive in kicking, but when the public is so thirsty for good Hip Hop that they break out the anointing oils for simply serviceable MC's, and when words like "Swagger" become acceptable criteria above actual lyrical skills - I'll take hyperbolic hand-wringing over complacent acceptance any day of the fucking week.
That being said, "Below the Heavens" takes you back to a time when cohesive albums were the rule and not the exception, when talented wordsmith's didn't feel the need to condescend to their fan-base by dumbing down their lyrical content - outside of my black medallions that I still wear for shits and giggles and an old 10th grade classmate that gives me a "massage" once a week, this album is one of the few things that takes me back to 1988. With stellar production from Exile, and a multifaceted lyrical approach where Blu effortlessly exhibits verbal gymnastics and honest introspection at the same time - this 15 track masterpiece reminds you why you fell in love with Hip Hop in the first place. The track "My World Is.." is an introductory battle cry of lyrical braggadocio, "The Narrow Path" is a driving force that lets the listener know that the road of an MC is of the less traveled variety, "In Remembrance" is a laid back head-nodder where young Blu finds himself fondly looking back when life was much more simple , and "Blu Colla Workers" is a playful track that goes into how ambition can really take a serious toll on your social life. Other standout tracks include "Dancing in the Rain", where the protagonist in this sonic motion picture explains how music is the perfect escapism when the weight of the world gets too heavy, "First Things First", a believable stump speech trying to convince single women to endorse his penniless agenda, "Cold Hearted", the deeply personal recollections of a misspent youth - and "Soul Rising", which is strictly a lyrical assault to remind people that he'll carefully dissect and then proceed to snack on the vital organs of your favorite rapper. Shit man, there isn't a wasted moment to be had on "Below the Heavens" - and if a CD can make a grizzled hater such as myself see the light at the end of the tunnel as far as Hip Hop is concerned, its undoubtedly the Album of the Year.
Lets just hope a CD comes out in 08' that curbs my penchant for receiving receipts after sex.
"Simply Amazin' (Steel Blazin')"
"Below the Heavens" at Amazon
Blu's Myspace page
EXILe's Myspace Page
