Sunday, January 28, 2007

I'm Brother Kojak...The Wife Beater

It's been awhile since I posted.
I've been busy buying a new car and trying to find a job. I guess most people try to find a job first but I'm not most people. I'm different. Of course most people who are married help each other out. I don't. In fact, I pimp my wife(MS Kojak). She pays the mortgage and all the bills. In fact, I even had her pay my over $300 cell phone bills because I like to talk to the ladys, if you know what I mean. I have her pay my cell phone bill and I hardly ever call her. By the way, I have a new car, Ms. Kojak still drives her old falling apart car.

Of course Ms. Kojak knows better than to argue with me. I'm a big man and during our marriage I've had to knock her head around many times. She forgets that I can do whatever I want whenever I want. She's called the police a couple of times and I have even been arrested. But that don't stop me from hitting her. All I have to do is beat her up in front of little Kojak (He's got to learn how to treat a woman), then I take little Kojak away from Ms. Kojak and I take him to my mother's place. That way I can keep little Kojak away from Ms. Kojak so that she suffers even more. If Ms. Kojak goes to my mother's place, my mother calls the police to keep Ms. Kojak away from little Kojak. My mom knows the laws and she supports me in everyway, especially when it comes to beating and putting Ms. Kojak in her place.

In fact, just this last Thursday, I had to put Ms. Kojak in her place. Ms. Kojak works all night long and tries to get some sleep during the day, of course if I think it's ok. Because I'm a big man and can do whatever I want. Well, Ms. Kojak wakes up and gets ready for work. She then tells me that I had to clean dog shit that my dog left in the basement. I just gave her a look like if she's crazy telling me what to do. She started reminding me about my responsibilities when it comes to the dog. I then gave her my answer. I pushed her hard and she started to lose her balance. I then grabbed her by her hair and dragged Ms. Kojak across the floor. You should have heard her cry. I then started kicking her across the floor real hard. Good thing she wasn't pregnant because I would have kicked her hard in the stomach because I don't want any children with her anymore. By the time I was finished with her I left her all bruised up. I also left a large scratch on her face. I spent so much time beating her that we lost track of time. She was late for work. She better not let that happen again because she's got to pay all the bills so that I can eat, have place to sleep, and basically pimp my way around. Little Kojak was able to see all this and learn how a big man should treat his wife. When he gets older and learns about the ladys, I'll teach him some more. For example, a big man like me can have many girlfriends while being married. I can have sex with anyone I want and Ms. Kojak better keep it to herself unless she's willing to go a couple of rounds with me. In fact, I can spend a couple of nights away from home and she better not even dare ask me where I've been. And when I do decide to come back, that house better be clean or else I'll mop the floor with her. Anyways, getting back to last Thursday. I took little Kojak to my mom's place so that when Ms. Kojak returns home after working all night 12 hrs plus, she would come back home to find the house empty without little Kojak. I did that to teach her not to mess with me Brother Kojak. I even let little Kojak call her after a day has gone by, to remind her what she's missing.

That reminds me. I don't just beat up Ms. Kojak. I also like to beat up little Kojak too. I know he's only 9 years old but he's got to learn some respect. All I have to do is call out his name loudly and you should see him get all nervous and tremble. Sometimes he's so scared of me, he has to beg me to let him go pee. I really love that boy! I'm going to beat him up so that he can grow up to be a strong man like me.

The only other thing on my mind is getting back into school because my last degree is going nowhere fast. It's a shame I can't be as successful as Ms. Kojak. Well she's paying all the bills so who cares. I've been thinking about going to law school. I'm wondering though, if my prior arrest as a wife beater might interfere with that idea. It better not or Ms. Kojak got's some slapping coming her way. That would be nice if I could go to law school and become important like Ms. Kojak. So far I'm good with the ladys but if I was a lawyer with all that money, I wouldn't need Ms. Kojak anymore to pay my bills. I could then get my own place and have all kind of women.

Well I'm kind of getting tired of typing because my fingers our sore. Probably from all the slapping I gave Ms. Kojak last Thursday night.

I know in the past we have been doing TTTT. Instead I think I will post everytime I decide to beat up Ms. Kojak or little Kojak. I know you monkeys would rather read about my latest boxing matches than read stupid stuff I've put up so far.

And if any of you monkeys like beating up women too, please leave your comments on my blog.
So please check back often to see if there is more wife or child beatings going on in my life.

Brother Kojak, the real big man!

Friday, January 12, 2007

I Can't Believe It

It's hard to believe that the hardest garment to get in this city is anything with the color Purple. No, not Whoopi Goldberg and them, the actual color purple. Today is Spirit Day in B-more and damn it you wouldn't believe it. I took the Offspring to get a fake out jersey for him and a cheap-ass Raven's coach shirt for me. HOWEVER, there was no purple to be found. The Offspring; poor kid. He's so clueless sometimes. We found a nice shirt with purple in it, but it wasn't a Ravens shirt and it was a tad big. He wasn't feeling it, so he might be assed out as being one of the few kids sans purple today. Uh oh. I have 2 young jerseys, but I'm not rockin' either one of them because my physique is all banged up and I am now a jersey snob. I can no longer bring myself to wear a replica jersey.
So I'll be rockin' the Passionate Power Purple shirt and tie. There may be pics....probably not. But what there will be pics of is any great bastardization of UB's campus in purple.

BTW, the included pic is NOT from the local paper, but from the Washington Post. THE WASHINGTON POST. Here is the greatest season of the Raven's short history and the paper doesn't even pics of how the city is ablazed in purple. Hmmmm....and they wonder why readership is down in the City That Reads.

Friday, January 05, 2007

Life After Death

The hook from "Royalty" by Gangstarr
Wherever I go
I want to take nothin less than the best
Whatever I choose, I choose to do
I have to stand out from all the rest
Whatever I do, wherever I go
I want to take nothin less than the best
Whatever I choose, I choose to do
I just wanna stand out from all the rest

Right after me posting about the death of hip hop as we know it, I have to tell you an experience to bring the soul of it as it lives in me, to you.

Ever heard the old 80's song "Last Night A DJ Saved My Life"? Last night, a dj did save my life, with hip hop. How ironic the dj was me as I'm dealing with the burial of the previous, tumultuous year and the birth of the next one.

For me, this is the year to end the confusion, the unrest. To once again wake up saying "Whoever ain't ready for me better get the fuck outta the way; this is my time."

Right after the passing of the old year, I felt myself in the same psychological abyss that has impeded me from being me and growing me.

But last night, **laugh** that weak shit went out the window. It was ME who saved my own life (so to speak) before it was too late with one of my support systems from days past.

Hip Hop.


the dj

the emcee

playing music that was there for me and to a degree by me revealing itself thru every riff

repeat and drop by DJ Priemere

the steady flow of Biggie Smalls

a vicious series of cuts followed by shout outs from DJ Green Lantern.

Its enough to blow your mind, man. For real....

Why? Because! Man, you have to look at it from a symbolic sense. KRS-One dropped the knowledge a few days ago confirming the death of hip hop as we knew it. Why? Because of the death of the godfather of hip hop, James Brown (peaceful journey). The art of sampling started with him. The beats started with him. The koolness started with him. Goddamnit, the bling started with him! Man! Ain't that some shit??? One man spurnned an entire culture! AND...when did he die? On Christmas night!!!!! Let me repeat that.......on Christmas night. The symbolism in that is just too deep to be a concidence y'all. Shall I break it down?


Jesus (the Savior of Christians) was "born" on December 25. Now we all know this is a lie. We know that this was the day chosen by European Christians to commemorate the birth of Christ because this time of year is bleak and depressing. Ancient documentation shows that Christ was actually born around mid-October. What I'm basically getting at is that we really don't know when Christ was born; nor do we know when hip hop was born. Ya feel me?

Stay with me here. Don't jump to conclusions just yet.....

Alright....James Brown, the godfather of hip hop died on Christmas.; his death on a day that symbolizes the birth of a Savior. And on that day, December 25, 2006, so died hip hop as we know it. The catch is, that means that The Death invokes a rebirth. A rebirth of a culture in transition.

Now to clarify, I'm not putting the hip hop culture on the same plane as Christianity. But from a philisophical comparison, they are both movements. Christianity started as the religion of slaves and peasants. Hip hop was donned as "Jungle Bunny Nigger Music" by the Klan. But both have risen to new (and sometime dangerous) plateaus. After Christ rose from the dead, the miraculous story was passed on by "witnesses" and so grew the embracing by both the emperor and the slave. Hip hop has grown from that stigma to the music that can be played and enjoyed by all on many different levels (just like Christianity has the different types of denominations).
But the question is what will happen in the rebirth? Will there be a Mile Davis to bring "The Rebirth of Cool"? Will hip hop die at its own hands like ragtime died when Scott Joplin passed away (peaceful journey)? Is it going to be a resurrection of something deep and beautiful or is it going to be the birth of a huge money making minstral show?

as long as I am blessed with breath

will bear witness to the rebirth 'cause it was me who was the crowd moved by Erik B and Rakim

it was me who gerry-rigged the component set to listen to Mack James on AM 630

it was me who "walked on ice, but never fell, I spend my time in a plush hotel..."

it was me who watched helplessly as one Crew destroyed spokesman of the other all for the sake of which coast had more juice

it has been me

it will always be me

just as it is you

and you
and you...
and you...
and you.....

Song List That Brought it All Together
Royalty by Gangstarr
Everyday Struggle by Biggie Smalls
My Life by Kool G Rap
Bring It Own by Jay Z (featuring Sauce Money)
Spottieottiopolis by Outkast
A Story to Tell by Biggie Smalls
Return by Self Scientic
Liberation by Outkast (featuring Eryka Badu and Cee-lo)

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Hip Hop Is Dead (?)

Hi y'all! What's poppin'? What's been going on with me? The typical; a cycle of interviews with no results. I think I have got to hold the record for going on an interview and coming up empty handed.

My cousin AreYouGay is having her annual Kwanzaa party on the day of Nia. I wonder is the hot South American gonna be there again? I want to ask AreYouGay, but I wouldn't know how to ask. My real issue is what am I going to do creative. Last year I read one of my blog poems, but I haven't written a poem in I don't know how long (oh wait. Its been about a year. duh) and I'm in no mood to write one now. I might just bust out a kareoke machine which brings me to the topic. There is a song that I've been trying to download for a couple of years and I finally found it. Its "I Love You" by Mary J Blige featuring Smif N Wessun. I GO FOR that song! That was the joint back in the day, but in hindsight, it is the song or at least the group that probably has lead hip hop to its cultural critical care bed. You see, there is a movement that is calling for the death of hip hop and its not lead by Christian Right or Mini-van driving moms. Its led by Gen Y'ers who are sick of the fakeout thuggery, braggidoccio about bitches and hos, and the pleathura of Dirty South Dummies. This is disturbing for us Gen X'ers because this is the music culture we grew up with. There are some kats who are doing their thing like Jean Grae, Common, Self Scientific, Dead Prez, Mos Def, and so on. But the overwhelming majority of so-called hip hop artists represent stereotypes that we black people don't need.
But back to Smif N Wessun, they were probably one of the 1st underground groups to do a collabro with a pop star. Although the effort is a good one, it was a start of things to come. Now a singer HAS TO have a rapper in the song. Rap's crossover and success into pop was at the expense of hip hop. There always has been a difference between the two. Rap is pure expression, hip hop is the expression plus the message. Over time, people have explored this and some rappers have exploited it. The first one to do this was Master P. All of his work was considered hip hop because of its underground nature. But when the masses started listen and buy, Master P and the entire Southern contingent lost their minds. Extravagance grew to it current obsurdity with Lil' John and a host of others. Not just to blame the Southern rappers; some East Coast kats are guilty of the same antics like Jay-Z and Fabolus. So now, hip hop has taken black people back with these modern day minstral shows.
However, now the same kats who brought the game up in the first place are leading the march to kill the monster hip hop has become. One album that blatently states this is Nas's new album "Hip Hop is Dead". Cop that. It may be the beginning of the end.

Good Party: Tru Skool Style/ Bad Party: The Haters Ball

Happy New Year's to all of you. Hope your holidays were great. Mine were fine; nothing to brag about, but good nonetheless. I have a post like this pretty much every year, my New Year's Experience. This year is gonna be a little different. Yes my good people, we are gonna juxtapose a good party in comparison to a bad one. Last month, I went to the best house party I've ever been to in my life. Here is why it was the best:

  1. 2 different djs spinning records from hip hop, r&b, 80's, 90's, and reggae.
  2. food: chicken wings, salad, rolls, shrimp cocktail
  3. beverage: you name it, it was there.
  4. crowd: 4:1 ratio (men/women). Not great numbers, but in a party with this type of music, it was impressive
  5. duration: party lasted until about 5.
  6. memorobilia: 47 pics taken usual, I set my self up for a nice New Year's Eve. Place to stay and research for what was going on in town. For the 1st time in years I was going about it solo but I was ready. I figured I should be around friends so I called WhatAboutMe to see what was poppin' in DC. There were 2 options. We could either go to the Bohemian Caverns restaurant grand opening and enjoy open bar, buffet and 3 dance floors for $50 or go to a house party in Northeast. We chose the latter.

Collosal mistake.

We chose the house party because a house party is usually bang or bust. Given that this couple had a party a few weeks ago that was pretty good, we took our chances. I was to meet the peeps over there. It was raining and unfortunately I had to park about 2 blocks away. I didnt wear my all purpose coat from the Devil because I wanted to look cute. (I'm paying for it now with a scratchy throat) So I'm in my 70's leather hustling up the street. I walk on the door, wow. Nice. Crib. The door was frosted glass with arch. One of the walls was exposed brick and in the dining room were matching built-in glass display cases. Nice. Real nice.
The 1st mistake of the party was that it was too splintered. The house was big; (shared by 4) there was a group of about 7 in the kitchen. Upstairs was the smoking room; there were about 4 people in there. On the top floor there was a chic laying on the floor alone chatting on a laptop. In the dining room was a laptop hooked up to some speakers playing mp3's with Media Player. Getting into the kitchen, I soon realized why everyone was in the kitchen; THERE WAS NO DAMN FOOD MAN! Yes....a party, with little to no food. The hostess had some nachos and salsa. In the oven wasn't some buffalo wings or even pigs-in-a-blanket. No, sista girl was baking some cranberries and bree wrapped in pastries. What the fuck is bree? Dude, do you not know I've been representin' B-more for years? What the fuck? I found out bree is some kinda uppity cheese.

Oh God.

Media Player. There is nothing wrong with playing music from a computer for a party, but uhh....why hit repeat if you have tons of music saved to the laptop? It was bad enough listening to undancable 80's music, but to hit the repeat button halfway thru the next song? Come on! Ugh!

Then it was almost midnight. The hostess herded us upstairs to watch the ball drop where I heard WhatAboutMe's friends say one of the most triflingest things to end the year: "Damn, that ain't Dick Clark. They got puppet strings connected to him. That's Howdy Dowdy." What an asshole. So the ball drops and hugs and kisses are exchanged. Then I realized something; oh shit, I'm buzzed. Why?

Because there was no gaddamn food, man!!

One sustains a buzz when food is not there to absorb it. Plus I was just sitting around instead of dancing or something. I had a rum and coke, and a psuedo-martini. Buzzed. This was actually a bad thing because I wanted to get the fuck outta there. Now I was stuck for another hour. Shit. So at this point, I figured me and WhatAboutMe can make the party by gettin' our stupid on. That worked great for a while, until 2 of the girls who were in the kitchen came to join us. Let's call them Shleprock and Droopy. (No, Shleprock is a dated reference. Change that to Debbie Downer. ) We're laughin' and I decide to be a gentleman and let them in on the convo. Bad idea. They both just kinda smiled. When asked where they were from they replied "Baltimore." What? Wassup?!?! East side or West side?
Debbie Downer: West side.
Droopy: East side.
Me: Ahhh! East side! You must be gangsta!
Droopy: Well, I'm from there, but now I live in College Park.
Me: Oh! Let me guess, you went to U of Md, graduated, but never left the area.
Droopy: Riight!
(All smile)
(Silence, still smiling)
(More Silence...then the trumpet in the background:"wooomp, wooooooom")
Me:, Miss Lady (indicating to DD), what do you do?*
Debbie Downer: What do I do?
Me: Yeah, bitc...yeah, man! I mean what do you do? For a living? To eat and shit? Ya know?
Debbie Downer: Oh! Well, I.....I'm....(looking at Droopy)'s...
Me: You just ain't working now. Got it.
Debbie Downer: Yeah.
Me: Yeah.
Droopy: Hello all you happy people.
(wooomp, wooooooom!)

Now I'm blown. Just blown, but the liquor is still on me. Droopy and Debbie Downer walk off and DJ MoonRisesSunSets and WhatAboutMe sat and looked at each other pitifully. "What the fuck is bree?" I asked as the hostess went upstairs. People started getting their coats and rolling out. We quickly followed suit as the music turned off before we could even get our coats. It was 1:45. 1:45 and a New Year's Party is over??? Ugh. So here is the 2nd portion of the juxtaposition:

  1. Computer playing 80's.
  2. food: nachos, salsa, bree and shit
  3. beverage: you name it, it was there.
  4. crowd: 1:1 ratio , but Droopy and Debbie Downer made the rest of them look bad.
  5. duration: party lasted until about 1:45.
  6. memorobilia: 4 pics taken
What did we learn? Not a damn thing. Well, we did learn that when in doubt, do it your damn self. That party was so lame we are seriously considering having a If Your New Year's Eve Sucked Make-up Party. Stay tuned.

*it is always bad to ask someone from B-more what they do for a living as a good portion of people there are either out of work, are from job to job, or just don't do shit.