Still On My Poetry Grizzlie

Aight.


Obama won, we're all in the afterglow, but, I STILL have a job to do: Writing my thoughts, opinions, feelings, and truths for mass consumption. Since I haven't posted anything since the election, I'm gonna post this poem I've been holding onto for about 2 months, to whet your appetites. Don't worry... I'm working on pissing people off on this site, again, so don't worry. '09 is my year, so DON'T SLEEP!! Middle of Da Map Magazine IS comin', and there's NOTHING my very WELL employed haters can do about it...

This piece came about after an episode with my own, internalized, feelings, as well as a few choice words with some not-worth-shit individuals who will remain nameless/clueless...


Mama's Baby, Daddy's Maybe... (a son's contempt of Father & Fatherhood)
By r. clark

It wasn't because he missed my first steps.
He was working...
It wasn't all the Halloween costumes, or birthday parties he missed, because, I understood for a long time.
He wasn't in town...
It wasn't even that I learned how to tie my shoes, ride my bike, drive a car, or kiss a girl without his help or encouragement.
He was busy...
No, I was the product of a relationship that ended long before conception,
The product of lust and longing.
What could be considered a relationship of convenience, to some,
Produced a, handsome, baby boy destined to have the subtle nuances of his donor...
His contempt of relationships and brown eyes...
His flirtatious smile and broad shoulders...
His ability to break hearts and maintain a lustful hold over his conquests...
His stocky build and pigeon-toed strut...
My silver tongue, forged from my father's deceiving fire...
It's because of his ways that I never connected in relationships
My wife can't understand why I'm so drawn to watchin' women wiggle their hips
She doesn't understand my penchant for spewing sweet venom from these lips,
All of this comes from the genes I've been equipped
Never allowing myself to become whipped
I'd rather be master than 'bate...
The way I've always known.
Now a father, I expect so much from children so young
Constantly contemplating my sudden disappearing act, leading them into a cycle all too familiar
I want to break it...
But, here I am, a reflection of my father's unsteadiness,
Young and restless in search of someone Bold and Beautiful to share the Days of my Life with...
See, this soap opera I call 'life' should've given me a pass.
Should've given me cause to become another statistic
Yet, it was my mother's will I grasped to. Her stubborn nature and strong will.
Her "Do-anything-I-want/NEED-to" get by attitude,
Her "Family First" philosophy, her "Give-my-all-in-love" creed,
Her open heart, her sharp mind, her "quick to listen, but slow to speak" motto... That routinely gets broken,
But, I digress...
Through him, I got HER, and she got me,
So...
I didn't need him to: teach me how to fight,
Or how to tackle,
Or how to shoot a jumper,
Or how to shave...
Because I had HER.
Because she was there to teach me how to:
Appreciate the love in my life,
Put my pen to pad and express my thoughts and feelings,
Love MORE THAN just me,
And most importantly...
To forgive.

© Robert Clark, 2008



Again, check back here for more from me, as WELL as midwestbeasts.blogspot.com to keep up with the Mid BEST's HOTTEST acts!

Peace,

Double Ii







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Hope. Change. Faith.

Sit back and enjoy it, folks. In this moment, we have elected a new President for our country, and changed history. I find myself, among many things, excited, and uplifted. Actually, I'm overwhelmed at the idea and prospect. Do we know what we've done? Do we understand the ramifications? To put it in perspective for myself, with 3 children (2 boys, and a girl in the middle) to raise, I, NOW, do not have to flinch when I look them in the eye and tell them that they can be absolutely ANYTHING they want in life... Hell, being 27 years old, myself, I feel inspired to reach for things that I never dreamed possible. Being a black man, and FINALLY feeling the burden of oppression, second best-ness, and not good enough being thrust from our backs and shoulders after almost 500 years in this country... Wow. I drove my kids to school this morning, and it seemed surreal... Indiana in November is usually a really gray, cold, bland city. But, November 5th, 2008, saw the sun smiling down on a vibrant, happier, colorful city happily embracing the change the IT'S people helped bring about. Historically a "Red" state in Presidential elections, this time, WE got it right. We bitched and moaned about the direction that our country was heading in under Bush's leadership, we bitched and moaned about change, and we answered our OWN call. A co-worker of mine voted for the first time in this election and when I asked him how he voted, he said the most profound thing I've heard this entire election season. He said, "I voted, but I didn't vote a straight ticket... I wanted to make sure that I PERSONALLY filled in the oval next to his (Barack Obama's) name. I wanted to be able to tell my kids that I VOTED for HIM!"...


Funny. This is what we've waited for for so many years, but the greater question at hand is what will we do with this opportunity? This is one of the greatest question posed to us at this juncture. No longer can we rest on our laurels complaining about how hard it is to get ahead. No longer can we accept mediocrity from our children OR ourselves. This country has has built numerous industries on the basis of it's people's lack of motivation, or for lack of a better term, laziness. People, we've talked a great game, lately. We've ALL been motivated, empowered, jubilant, and so much more from this experience. But this can't be our ONLY footprint left in the world. We can't subject our legacy to obscurity bevause we failed to (in the words of OUR President, borrowed from Martin Luther King, Jr), "...Act on the urgency of now." We've crossed the bridge, climbed the mountain, and see the Promised Land... But what will we build on that land? What fruit will that land bear?


All in all, for this occasion, we've earned it. We've earned the celebrations. We've earned the high fives, dancing, shouting, tears of joy, etc. But, let us not get caught up in the moment and forget why we've been given this chance. Let us not leave this country solely in the hands of one man and expect miracles from him (despite what the jokes imply, he's NOT the Messiah...). This country has been before, and can be great, again. But, it takes ALL of us to see that vision. It takes parents being better parents, it takes government changing outdated, immoral, racist laws and making better choices for it's people. But more than anything, it takes an effort, from every willing, able-bodied, person to put this country back on track.

*"This ain't a diss song, it's a real song"* --Jay-Z

Peace and God Bless

Double Ii

Misogyny In Hip-Hop (bka "BootyBootyBooty Shakin' E'rywhere!!!)

So, I'm watching that "Hip-Hop versus America" panel (that BET aired a few months back) on DVR the other day. Aside from the barking and clucking that overpowered hosts MC Lyte and Jeff Johnson, I noticed that in the two years since Don Imus' infamous remarks, we're still obsessing over this whole "misogny" issue in hip-hop. I've managed to stay somewhat quiet since the fallout that has turned generation against generation, father against son, mother against daughter... But, I now feel that it's time to get my 15 minutes of fame and add my two cents to this pissing party.

(Misogyny: a noun meaning "Hatred of women". From the Greek "misos" meaning 'hatred' and "gune" meaning 'women'. Source: Oxford English Dictionary.)

I wish that sometimes people would look up the definitions of words BEFORE they apply them. Especially the so-called educated "intelligentsia" that throw this word around like Jeezy throws cash at Magic City (if that's too ghetto an analogy... deal with it...). Everytime I turn on some panel, or discussion, or round table concerning rap music, misogyny is the FIRST word thrown out. Like rappers CREATED misogyny. Hell, most rappers can't SPELL "misogyny," and even fewer know what it means!

Let me be perfectly clear before I go too deep into this rant... For the most part, rappers are NOT misogynists. Hip-Hop as a culture doesn't condone "hate" of ANY kind, and to include (or disclude, depending on your personal view or the state of Hip-hop) a gender that you supposedly hate would be considered hypocritical. Like the Klan accepting Gay, Jewish, Asian, Arab, Hispanic, or Black members (is that better for you?).

(Hate: [v]; to feel intense dislike for or a strong aversion for.
1. [n] intense dislike or strong aversion for. 2. [informal] a disliked person or thing. Source: Oxford English Dictionary.)

Yes. Today, class is in session. So, since we're talking about it, where does this ideology of a misogynistic Hip-Hop stem from? Is it politics? No, it didn't become political until election time came around. Is it religious? Really? Most religions have been key proponents in the stagnation and dissemination of the Women's Rights movement! I know male PASTORS who won't dignify or acknowledge a female contemporary. In the Catholic sect, women STILL can't lead Mass nor become ordained pastors, bishops, et cetera (*chuckling* religion...)! Is it feminists? Nah, it can't be feminists because they would check the WOMEN before they blasted off on the (male-dominated, cock swinging majority of an...) industry, as a whole...

"So who, Rob?"

Hip-hop did. This whole time, people IN Hip-Hop are wondering who was blasting them, and years later, we find out that it's our OWN... SMFH. Surprised, huh? Shouldn't be, really. Hip-Hop has always tried to stand on it's own morals, and tried to be the "hood's CNN". In the late 80's and early 90's, though, Hip-Hop started policing itself. The gangsta rap ethos of street awareness was separating itself sonically and socially from its counterparts. Almost overnight, Hip-Hop went from party songs, breaking, and graf writing, to police brutality, racially instituted economic differences, and turmoil within the community. With this newfound voice, rappers (like ANY creative artists) began to vent their frustrations of heartbreak, abuse, mistrust, and the like.

(Funny. It took a WHITE man calling black women "nappy headed hoes" for Hip-Hop to get tossed under the bus. AGAIN.)

Now, back to this "misogyny" thing...

Reading the definitions provided, do you still believe that Hip-Hop, or on a smaller scale, rap music is misogynist? You do? What if I told you that more women have perpetuated a misogynistic attitude in Hip-Hop than men... From Roxanne Shanté (whom I love AND respect) through Chyna Whyte (whom I ALSO love and respect), female emcees (or "femcees") have been more avid to spitting so-called "misogynistic" lyrics. Don't believe me? Reference rap lyrics from ANY femcee in the past 20 years, and you'll see my point (might I suggest OHHLA.com, that site's been a saving grace of mine for YEARS). I know that some people may find it hard to believe, especially since men outnumber women in Hip-Hop at a rate of 4 to 1, but by definition you must "hate" a woman in order to be misogynist (yeah, I'm splitting hairs).

Now, I'm man enough to admit one thing: Rap music (POPULAR, MAINSTREAM), for the most part has become some weird hybrid of street/soft porn/thuggery/masculine commercialism. Instead of catering to the masses, it caters to the hyper-sexualized caveman with a ADD. It's brightly colored flashing lights, jiggling thonged asses, and posturing remind me of Vegas with tattoos and a gold grille. It may be sexist. It may be opulent and unnecessary and obnoxious (at times). But, it's not hateful. It doesn't promote negativity towards women (a thorough listen to most lyrics will yield that most of the "bitches" and "hoes" referenced in song are actually men). It does encourage salicious and immoral behavior (I mean, c'mon, "Back Dat Azz Up"? "Shake Ya Azz"? "Doo-Doo Brown"? "Gettin' Sum [Head]"? "Nookie [Pussy Real Good]"?...), but that is NOT hate. And if women are participating in said behaviors (hint: the last two songs I mentioned were made by female rappers), don't they, too, have a responsibility to the way Hip-Hop is viewed?

Look out for Part Two: "Chicks Do It Best"!


Peace



(P.S. Check out the new blog, " Middle Of Da Map Presents: The Mid Best". The blog dedicated to all things Midwest Hip-Hop! Find it at midwestbeasts.blogspot.com, and tell your friends about it!)

Opulence: Ignorance Truly IS Bliss...

I've always been curious as to why we as humans have such a penchant for the flossing of our wealth. Of course, saying "human" I mean "black people" and "flossing" I mean "gaudy and tasteless"... Seriously folks, WTF is goings on with us?!? It's sad that you can always tell when "we" get some money, because the first thing we do is splurge on something that's worth LESS than what we paid for it!! I bring this up because of conversations I've had lately with my friends and family. We STARTED out talking about the ridiculous chains and other gaudy & tasteless jewlery famous (black) people adorn themselves with... and it degraded itself from there. From the four-finger rings of the 70's and 80's, to Lil' Jon's "Crunk Ain't Dead!!!" charm and everything thing in-between, THIS is what WE want to splurge on.

I thought it was strange when I first read (yes, I READ things while Cable TV was invented) about Kings and Queens of the past (African and European) who went to great extremes to show all the wealth they had amassed (be it through "legitimate" spoils of war, or that grey area that most usually fell into...). In current and ancient times, wealth has always been defined by society and culture... So, while the Ancient Greeks, Egyptians, and Romans, valued jewels and spices and gold, they were no more wealthy than their tribal counterparts that adorned themselves with the bones and ivory of slaughtered prey and conquered territory (more a sign of power, than wealth, but, you'll see the similarities soon). See, the wearing of wealth has been around for a long time... as long as time, honestly. In Victorian England (and America), wearing fine silks and fabrics in multiple layers, huge powdered wigs, and even make-up and perfume showed the wealth of men. Black men were no different, though not afforded the access to much of the same things of their white counterparts, they found that, within their circles, the more they imitated wealthy whites the wealthier they were viewed...

Which still doesn't answer my question:

Actually, I'm more concerned with the present, instead of the past. Yeah, I know you can't know move ahead without understanding the past, but, I believe we're taking ignorant bliss too damned far! Some of the indulgences I've seen my people engross themselves with borderlines on mental deficiency, and the rest of us allow it as if nothing is wrong at all. All I heard as a child, from my elders (not peers) was that, should I ever come into money, the first thing I should do is invest and spend it WISELY. Let me spell that for you, again: W-I-S-E-L-Y!!! I knew at age 10 that cars and jewelry DEPRECIATE once they are a) Driven off the lot/walked out of a store and b) customized, yet, my peers (and sadly, some elders) do just these ignorant things! Case in point: Three (3) years ago, the Houston rap scene was exploding, and with this branch of the music I fell in love with, came the fads and accessories of the region. Next thing you knew, EVERYBODY wanted to: Ride 84's, sip lean, bang Screw (R.I.P), and put diamonds in their MOUTHS!! Well, here we are three (3) years later and EVERYBODY, from Fat Joe to BROOKE FUCKIN' HOGAN (and speed demon little bro Nick) has (or had) a MOTHERFUCKING grill!!! Nelly and Jermaine Dupri did a song for them!! And as with rap music, it's not just WHO has it, its WHO PAID MORE! Houston hip-hopper Paul Wall and his partner "TV" Johnny Dang have been adorning the mouths of rappers and other Houstonites for years at an average cost of about $12,000/ per grill... Let that soak in for a minute. The same amount that could purchase you some major stock in some worthwhile companies, the same price that could see most peoples debt wiped cleaned, the SAME COST to put a student through TWO YEARS OF COLLEGE now rest in some dude's mouth breeding gingivitis and food particles... Oh! And I forgot the BESTEST part; more than HALF of the people who bought into the "fad" NO LONGER WEAR THE GRILLES AT ALL! Yes, the luxury of waste is greatest sign of the wealthy, and rappers are the cremè de la cremè when it comes to this aspect. And their followers (can you REALLY call most of these people fans?) dig themselves into unbelieveable debt trying to emulate their idols. $1500 for a bottle of Champagne to WASTE at the club. Custom-made jewelry valued in tens and sometimes HUNDREDS of thousands of dollar price points that devalue the moment it leaves the store, only to THROW it into waving throngs of fans at a concert. The excessive product placement of clothing and liquor companies that invest NOTHING back into the communities they pillage have become the "must haves" that the "should nots" kill and steal to achieve. And those who don't go that route become the future "trappers" to re-cycle this ideaology to another generation of kids... smfh.

I think my qualm isn't with the acquisition of riches, it's the spending habits of the untrained and irresponsible (yeah, I like that word). I'm not looking for everyone to tithe faithfully (okay, maybe I DO, but, until I tithe FAITHFULLY, they can slide a little), but I do expect some common sense in spending habits. I grew up around dudes who bought late model Caddys, Bonnies, Montes, and Regals (look it up if you don't know what I'm talking about), took whatever money they had and threw twenties, 22's, 24's, crazy paint jobs, bangs and screens (I apologize if my ghetto vernacular is making your head spin) and NEVER MOVED OUT OF THEIR MOM'S CRIBS! I mean, how can you put 20 or 30 grand into your car, yet still be living in the same shitty basement of the same shitty neighborhood you grew up in?!? Just to say that you "got more than the next dude?" That's fuckin' retarded!

(Wait. Before I completely lose my self, I have to say something. I have friends and family that live, somewhat, opulent lifestyles, while in the luxury of their parent's homes. What I'm bitchin' about isn't the comfort of home living, it's the lack of financial education. I know guys who buy new cars while living at mom and dad's who are simply building their credit scores... I also know guys who live at home who don't work, smoke pounds of weed, and don't take care of other responsibilities... This blog is for them.)

Actually, no. This blog is about what America affords us, and that's the ability to stand up in front of the entire world, pull down our pants and SHOW OUR ASSES! I still don't understand it, I don't think I ever will. And sadly, the only thing I truly care about is the fact that I live in a country that affords me the right and opportunity to do as such. So, even though I'm not a proponent of gaudy jewelry, 30 inch rims, platinum teeth, and the likes, when I allow MTV access to my 6000 to 8000 square foot home, and people ask, "Does he really need projection screens in FOUR ROOMS?" The answer is "no," but, I can't take it with me, and if you're jealous, HUSTLE HARDER THAN ME!!!


Peace.

From The Archives: "What, Am I Supposed..."

I know that a few of you are probably asking yourselves, "Why is he posting 'Archive' blogs? He's no Perez Hilton or Jam Donaldson! Who does he think he is?!? He's probably being lazy and not wanting to write anything profound again..." blah, blah, blah...

Nah, actually, I'm working on my books and, though there is a lot for me to touch on, getting these books done is MORE important. Be patient, though, I will make time to post more current rantings about life and the magazine (Middle Of Da Map, still coming soon!!!)!
So, with that said, I present to you, "What... I'm SUPPOSED To Be Doing Something Else???"

From: 10/11/2006
Category: Blogging

Man... It's been years, I guess, huh? The Kid's been busy.. Doing life, doing okay, doing my girl...(you knew it was coming)... But, you know, I can't keep loyal folks in the dark forever, right?
    I guess I've been real introspective lately. You know, my grandma passed over a year ago, and I vowed to myself, that I would make the most of my life.That I would dream big, succeed even larger than ANYONE could imagine. So, I finished my first book, started writing my first full novel, started my near life-long dream of Daddie'z Home Entertainment, and started a new relationship. Suffice to say, not much has come of all my dreams. I did start recording music, but, personal demons have hindered the fruition of  the complete album. Though the first book is complete, finding a publisher for it has been an uphill battle. The novel... Let's just say, genius takes time. Test readings are phenomenal, but, I can't put bullshit out to the masses. The new relationship... turned into another new relationship, which is "different" from past exploits in the meaning that she has 3 (count 'em) children from a previous, and unrenounced, marrige (the divorce isn't final). You know, sometimes, the most difficult thing in the world is to look yourself in the eye and tell yourself to keep fighting. But, thats what I do. Every morning when I wake up. And every night when I go to sleep. Cut from a bosses cloth, do what a boss does... If anyone is reading this, and thinking "Damn, I'm in a tough spot... I don't know what to do..." I have to say, look inside yourself, and find the boss inside. God is always with you, but you need to be with you, too. There's nothing worse than have the world for you, and ONLY you against yourself.
    Yeah. I know. Not the typical chest-thumpin-I-can-fuck-more-bitches- and-dress-flyer-than-you type of blog you were expecting, huh? Another sign of a Boss, the ability to change and inspire.
    Verse for the Day... (Damn, I haven't done one of these for a minute)....Beating blocks like a drum major/ never lackin paper/ got the block in left pocket, right beside the pager/ Watch my watch/ now you got the vapors, Call me Boss Biz/ Just friends with yo baby momma/ never mind the jizz/ Off top like pop fizz/ Ya'll needed me back/ Takin' over like a dictator/ Heat strapped to my back/ Call me Shaq in new circles/ push a chevy Laker purple/ Grape Ape in N-A-P/ 24's bigger than frames on the face of Urkel/ Lames/ Fakin, knowin' I'll hurt you/ still trying to battle me/ Savagery in these words, man/ you settin up for a catastrophe/ best to come out after me/ Soundscan-wise/ Number 1 holdin the bullet/ Soundscan don't lie...
    Usually I leave you with a thought... Something halfway wise, for you to ponder in your day-to-day life... Not this time...
Quote of the Day: "Excuse me, while I whip this out!"-- Cleavon Little as "Black Bart"-- Blazing Saddles

Archives: The Most Dangerous Weapon in America...

Continuing with the myspace archives, I present to you "The Most Dangerous Thing in America: A NIGGA With a Brain!!!"

Subject: The Most dangerous thing in America: A "Nigga" with a brain!!!
Date: 2/2/2006

        I got a real problem, folks... The problem is hair. Not my hair, or even your hair, but a type of hair. An "Ethinic" type of hair. For those uninformed, I am a black man (wow, buzz killer, huh?), and as a black man, I have a-typical "Negro" hair (kinky, wavy, curly, depending on your mix). Almost two years ago, I started growing my hair out in braids for rebellious reasons, but that's another story in itself. Since this decision, I've ran a retail store (mom n pop record store; Midtown Music, to those from Nap), worked in a major retail chain (Best Buy [fuckin' clown bastards]), and started my own business (Daddie'z Home Entertainment: Get on the bandwagon now!!). Now, being a 24 year-old black man in America is hard enough with the psuedo-racism, police harassment, et cetera, et cetera, but, my case is a little different. I stand 6'2 (6'6 with 'fro fully extended), I weigh around 275-280lbs. Kinda intimidating to the majority of the nation. I also have a college education, am extremely well mannered (given the environment I grew up in, that truly IS a compliment), given my surroundings, I can blend into any circle because I know how to play this game called LIFE. My beef comes with something I noticed during my tenure at Best Buy.
    Granted, I ran an urban mom n pop for 3 1/2 years, so I know a lot about urban music. But, I listen to EVERYTHING!!! Beck, Foo Fighters, My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, Alicia Keys, Paul Wall, Garth Brooks, Trace Adkins, etc. I worked in the cell phone department in Best Buy, yet customers (read: WHITE PEOPLE) would approach me and ask (on a daily basis) what was the "blazing new music" from the marginally (read: BET spin cycle) famous black artist. I didn't really let it bother me, until I asked one customer, in a half joking, half "I-could-crush-your-head-with-a-40 ounce-liquor-bottle" tone, "Why did you pass-by ALL of the employees (read: White) in that department to ask my opinion?" His response? "Because, you know, man, you LOOK like you might know what you're talking about" (read: You're the same color as the guy on this cd case, so YOU must own this cd, right?). I officially started to take notice of what I was being subjected to on a daily basis. Of all the black employees in the store, I was the most ethnically appealling. The long braids, the cocksure swagger, and the Black skin I wear, not to mention my ability to decode ebonics, all play a part in how people perceive me. I ask "Why?"
    My cousin happens to be a minister here in the city and for Black History Month, he's decided to grow out his hair and get a hairstyle called "Twisties," where the hair is washed, gelled, and curled around the end of a rat-tail comb all over the person's head. The end result (depending on hair length) usually is the "straw braid" effect. I asked my cousin why, after wearing his hair short for most of his life, would he choose to change hairstyles for one month, and one month only? His response, "Because I don't want to look like a thug all year long." So, me being me, a debate ensues, where the question is raised "Who says that black hairstyles have to be typified as "thug" hairstyles? Why are braids and dreadlocks demonized in American culture? Because a bad person wore their hair in that fashion? Hitler wore a taper, (barbers know what I'm talking about) does that mean that every German with a taper is evil? Osama Bin Laden wears a scruffy, unkempt beard, so (my point is proven here) does every male of Middle Eastern descent wish to harm America? NO!! But, ignorant, paranoid minds wish for you to believe the stereotypes. These people are called ignorant for a reason. They IGNORE facts! Yes, there are bad people out here with hairstyles that will cause you to always associate it with that person. I'm not trying to sound preachy, but this shit is ridiculous!! PEOPLE STYLE HAIR, HAIRSTYLES DO NOT MAKE PEOPLE !!!!
   The fact that an individual, with credentials and accolades of their own merit, wears a hairstyle and assholes get to judge them based on a predetermined experience with someone of similar features or characteristics... Layman's terms: All Black, Asian, Middle Eastern, and Hispanic people look alike, is un-fuckin'-believable!! And it's sad. We live in a country that wouldn't be shit, if it weren't for the people who only wish to be looked at as equals in the collective minds of the majority.
    I really want to know what it's going to take to get some unbiased respect out of one another, because, as much as I want to say it is... It's not ALL White people. There are successful black business professionals, that won't hire a black person because of their hairstyle. "Braids aren't professional." MY ASS they're not "professional!" There are Arab (Pakistani, Afghani, Saudi, etc.) Americans who stare, in awe, of someone from their native land in traditional garb or praying. Hispanic Americans who think ALL Mexicans are lazy. Asian Americans who really believe that they are ALL good in math and science (sorry buddy. No you're not.) These are nothing more than STEREOTYPES people (and I'm not talking Bose, Klipsch, or Pioneer, pally), and the more you play into them, the further you HELP set this country back. (I'm done ranting. Go eat some cereal, now.)
  
    
    I don't have a verse for today... Really. That rant you just read took a lot out of me.
       Quote for the day: " Reading is Fundamental"--- Literacy awareness PSA

From The Archives: How Do YOU Deal?

If you've been following me (as a reader, for you nutjobs out there) for any length of time, you know that I have been known, at times, to try and add a little depth to my, sometimes, sophomoric sense of reality... It's not often, but, frequent enough that people DO realize that I'm a normal (by SOMEONE'S standards), functioning adult in America. So, with that being known, some of you may have followed my original blog on myspace (www.myspace.com/twenty24! I want more friends!!!), and seen some of my rantings on that wonderful networking site. After speaking to a couple of readers, I decided to transplant a few of my more popular blogs over here to Da IN-fection, and introduce my new readers and fans to some of my older work. This one is from February 29th of this year, and something on my heart told me that needed to be posted for someone reading. Enjoy, and be blessed:

How Do YOU Deal?

I'm sitting here, moments after clocking out from work, thinking about life. And death. My cousin called me earlier today and told me that his grandfather, my great-uncle, didn't have much time left... If you've been following this blog awhile, you'd know that in recent years I've dealt with my fair share of death. And it's a changing experience... But, what struck me about his comment, other than the obvious grief that I truly haven't heard in his voice in some time, was the choice of his words. Not. Much. Time. Left.
We as human beings operate in what we call "Real Time." These are the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years in which we actually breathe and interact with other "real, live people." We get so caught up in Time that we obsess over it. We dread time. We fear time. We panic when we feel time is short, and waste what we call "free time." If you spent the time on Earth that my uncle, or grandmother and grandfather, my mom, my friends that have made the transition spent on this Earth, what would you tell everyone on the other side you did with your time? What stories will you tell the saints about your time in God's Ultimate Project?
I know, I rarely get all philisophical and preachy in this forum, but I think situations like this demand this respect. I love my uncle, and will always treasure the memories that I have of him and will pass on the life lessons that I learned from him to my children. I also know that I have members of my family that are in pain, that probably never wanted to see this day arrive. But, one thing I do know, though I am no biblical scholar, is that God has already planned our year, month, week, day, hour, minute, and second to return to Glory, welcoming us with open arms to say "Job well done, my child."
I know that this blog may seem a bit pointed or even favored, but it's not. This message is for someone who is struggling with some kind of pain, worrying about a family member, or simply wishing that they had more time. I don't care who you are, either sitting at your computer, or even doing as I am, and checking up on myspace via a mobile phone. But, if you're reading this and you feel that one of these people are you, simply say this prayer to yourself:


"Father, I come to you today, humbled by Your presence, asking for Your guidance, asking for Your favor. I've lived my life, worried about the time I have, or the lack there of, wasted time, not fully appreciating the time that You have given me, and I apologize for that. I come to You today to ask that You guide my heart in the direction that You want me to go. That You look inside me and see that I only wish to please You and I seek only Your favor. I lift Your name, and place my burdens on the altar of Grace, knowing that You have already blessed my situation and have already bestowed Your favor on me. This I ask, I pray, I cry, I shout, I beg, I plead, I accept in Your Holy name. Amen."


Quote of the day: "Live by faith. Let go, and Let God."

Daddie'z Home...

More Poetry... Our Secret

Keeping up with my last couple of posts, this too, is from one of my posts on Black Poetry Cafe. If you guys haven't been to their website (www.theblackpoetrycafeonline.com), I suggest you go and check out some of the best and brightest poets in America (or as some on there would say "Amerikkka"). They have different styles, forms, vibes, and in the end, you're thourghly impressed, entertained, and inspired. This joint is called "Our Secret" and was posted in the "Erotic Poetry" section. It got me into trouble with a few of the ladies on the site, but, what's wrong with a little controversy within art? Oh, and before I forget, you can order my new book (this is no bullshit, either), "The EL-P", directly from me. Right now, I'm working out a digital deal, so, at LEAST for the current time, it only available in physical form. It's a compilation of short stories and poetry that I've worked on for a couple of years (hence the title, a phonetic spelling of LP for long process, instead of long player), and I believe that everyone will find something to enjoy about it. When you email me, please indicate whether you would like Hardcover or paperback, as prices vary between the two...

Now, with my gratuitous plug out of the way... I present, "Our Secret"...


Our Secret
by r. clark

Meeting was simple.
I got a silver tongue and that's what got your attention,
Heard me bragging with the boys and felt you needed to get a piece of this. Never mind my wife, or that I have a life outside of work, you just want to fuck, right? That's why you cornered me in the hall, asking questions you had answers to already, pushing up close to let me inhale your perfume, I think that's Phermone No. 69, right? Extra emphasis on words with "S", simply stating subtle sentences sexily, has me sensing seductive undertones in statements like, "No one has handles my files like you do..."

I'm not stupid...

And asking me to work late with you on a project not due for another two or three weeks, that sealed my fate.
Low lighting in the office pretty much set all the mood we needed,
While I'm sitting at this conference table, barely able to focus on work for watching you sashay, and lean, exposing carmel flesh,
Enough to have me imagine your breasts pressed against my chest and--- Wait, what am I thinking?
Apparently, you got that message before I could get it out of my mind. And you approach my end of this desk tugging at the hem of your dress,
I don't know if it was a signal or not, but telling me that you wanna taste my cock, caught me off guard. No hesitation, as I'm turned in this chair, and unzipped and then slipped into warmth unfamiliar... I shouldn't enjoy t-this... ooooh, God.... Watching you work is turning me on even more,
See, my wife doesn't like the voyuer in me, so she does it with the lights out, and now your mouth is taking the place of her cold lips, making me forget her name and face, and wanting to tear your skirt away from your waist, and you oblige... "I like it rough," you hiss, tearing open my shirt while rapidly tugging on my dick, while I rub my fingers in and around your clit, playing with moist, shaven lips, wondering if you taste as sweet as I'm imagining you do.
"Lick it... I know you'll like it," you purr, so I flip you upside down, letting my lips soak in your juices for a moment before burying my tongue inside your peach, and savor what I believe is the flavor of a ripe plum, trying to maintain my composure as you moan and hum on what you've dubbed your "Reese Cup"... must be my complexion... Never thought of you as the type to deep throat, but, the more you let slip, the more I want to feel the reflex flinch on the tip and the more I flick my tongue on your clit...
How long before we come?
"Fuck me, please..." you beg, and, we've gone this far, so I
Lay you back on this table and slip inside you, fighting back the pleasure of erupting, while you clutch and squirm, and moan and beg for me to go deeper, and harder...
Heavy pants and devilish smiles, pussy flexes and you pull your own thighs back giving me a clear target, I'm thinking, "I've only seen this shit in porn" and you give me more by licking your hand and giving me the eye as you vigorously rub your pussy.
"Beat this pussy, daddy" you demand, eagerly thrusting your hips back at each stroke, the sounds of flesh striking flesh become the applause of approval you need as you scream out in ecstasy and squirt so hard that it stains the carpet behind me,
"Come for me, please... right here," you instruct, licking your lips and tracing a trail from your lips to your tits, reaching for my piece even as it still strokes within your sugar walls giving me extra friction... You must be a pro, because extra touch means quicker release, and as you ask for the second time for my seed, I pull out, and you kneel in front of me, lightly pulling my lever for the jackpot you desire, and I get to watch you bathe in the creamy white release in amazement...
This is our secret. Now we look at one another through sex-hazed eyes, quietly paying respects to the event we created so many months ago, never acknowledging the attraction, snickering as we pass the same spot where primal lust took the place of vow and commitment. It's this secret that scripts this meaningless memory on this sheet of clear parchment, with all intents of making this reality... invisible.

© 2008 R. Clark

Mind Of The Misguided

I figured for the next couple of posts, I'd hit you all with a different view and side of me. Other than the wonderful magazine I'm prepping for your hungry eyes and minds, I'm also a pretty good rapper (yeah, I'm patting myself on the back like a younger, fresher, albeit DARKER-TONED, Barry Horowitz), and an accomplished poet and short storywriter... What can I say, God deemed it necessary to give me good looks AND talent, who'd a thunk it? Anyway, this first joint is something fairly recent, a sample of focused chaos titled "Mind of the Misguided". Don't let the title work you up, but, read between the lines: OH! And, just in case you're wondering, ALL of my work is registered and copywritten with the government... (I refuse to get caught assed out, again...) Now, you may read on:


Mind of the Misguided
Orig. By Double Ii

Here I am,
young gangsta mentality,
depressed
watchin life as it passes me
Stressed
Thinking bout life as a casuality
Death,
precedes life if you think about it
Rationally
Adam and Eve birthed life, or was it catastrophe?
If you askin me, we been on a crash course since we were watchin Sesame Street
No more book learning, we teach about weaponry
Lesson #3,
cop these 'fore dude lets his little weapon squeeze
We made the best of it
Frosted chains, fruity rings, krispy jeans,
Breakfast cereal references fill my speech it seems
And that's the best of it,
Cause I could be coppin sumo weight
in every line, and that's fine,
But the TRUTH is what I determine great,
Not fictionalized traits,
Pitched fishing lines with no bait,
Hopin the masses catch flashes, but,
Cops lazy and flash badges,
Now kids are relaxed vandals,
What happened to no samples
Old soul is our new saddle
Grab that young horse and let him rap over
That Frankie Lymon,
We scream about perfect timing,
But we're just a buncha virgins,
Ain't even damaged the hymen, so,
Why are YOU rhyming?
I spit for release,
yeah I wish for peace
So when I say it to you, I REALLY wish you no beef
I'm in these streets like I say on these beats
But, you?
You hit the booth, and expect the streets to embrace sheep
Let me rephrase.
You want these beasts to exist with the weak
C'mon!
You better off flipping beef,
Cuz we're playin for keeps!
This ain't that, guy, we shootin to 21
12 skunk? U out the game, make room for fresh lungs
See we rep the fresh blood
Ya'll been greedy for a while
Yeah, a couple bit your style,
But ya'll been biting in denial
Claim your rights
Ryu or Guile? Street fighting since the 90's
When R. Kelly had P.A. and they was singin back in the 90's
Call me polished/grimy
Washed and filthy rhyming,
Still writing my lyrics, guess I gotta perfect my signing
Ya'll deaf and ya'll ain't just lip reading
We automatic, not six speeding thru life, ya'll keep leadin,
But, when you hit that loop, that 465 the circles the circle?
You'll realize this whole time 317 was Eddie,
Just waiting for ya'll Urkels

On My Poetry Grizzlie

This happens to be a post I had on a great poetry website (if ANY of you cats out there are interested, of course), The Black Poetry Cafe. A quick shout out to everybody I met on there, all the inspiration that a brother gained while trading stanzas with you was and STILL is amazing... Now, what I'm posting is from a little excercise that was posted to test the poets creative limits. This piece came from a list of sentences that had absolutely nothing to do with one another, that we had to "create something magical" with... Enjoy:


Damn this foolish pride of mine...

Thru gucci frames her eyes sparkled,
A vision of beauty watchin' me take purple rain stained steps closer...
We met thru Elmo @ my homeboy's crib, he's Grover,
2 block over from South Sesame,
My man, Kermit, watched her sip lemonade over my shoulder
Told me, "Double, she's peepin' you, but the Count is on her heavy. You should give her some new digits... maybe ya'll could go steady?"
Smirking, I told him, "I ain't the type... That lovesick-like, lonely holding myself late @ night..." She ain't gon' have this boy saying goodnight, shuffling my Nikes down moonless streets trying to feel complete, like Tom Cruise and Renee Z-Zeel, Zw-Zwel...
Her spots pro'ly nice,
I bet she's got my book, The El-P, displayed all majestic on her coffee table proud,
I was rockin' a set and saw her in the crowd,
I remember cuz it was late in March,
She had me autograph it next to the 3rd stanza of "Spring is Hear", u know...
"... My heart is loyal
Old dogs resting by dirt road sides
Soft sighs escape the confinment of this old soul's rested bones
Vivid flashbacks to a time when we did more than talk and text
More than sit perched upon mantles before God and recite poems of protest
Back when we marched and took action,
Fought for what we believed, u know?
Back when oppression sic'd dobermans on peaceful sit-ins, and new masters used water hoses like we were children that just needed cooling off..."
She said she liked that part, at least, that's what Kermit said.
Bert and Ernie chimed in and told of times when they would hear her cry and plead,
Count wasn't multiplying that right
And she asked them if he, I mean, I would...
Make love with she, you know, (the letters of the day L-O-V-E) and sex is just commonality between us two,
We "make" love when we say Love or
Is it we take love... for granted.
I invited her back to my roots and had a black thought about her quest for love so,
We went to church and the choir sang amazing
But, grace gave her clarity enough to not get stuck in my delusions as a poet
My pretty words opened her mind's eye to my confusion
And she used it against me
And now
She sips lemonade across the room and Kermit watches her over my shoulder while she transmorphs from victim to victor
Her eyes thru gucci frames get bigger
As she watches me watchin her through a mirrored gaze
My panther pride stalking her sexy thighs like my own prey

copyright 2008 R. Clark®

Taking Steps

Won't lie to you guys, I'm struggling with the title a bit... Anyways...Trying to work my way through something, so you folks are privy to a subject near and dear to me.

Why is it so tough to be a step-parent? Growing up, I had surrogate fathers in people like my grandfather (R.I.P), both of my uncles, and a few of my mother's (R.I.P) boyfriends. The kid never had the pleasure of having "Stepdad" IN the house with him, though. Not that it bothered me, but, it DID kinda shape how I look at the role of a stepparent. Being a boy, I wished I had someone to toss a football around with, teach me how to ride a bike, steal my first porn from, and shit of that nature. I didn't, and vicariously shared those moments with my cousins who DID have both parents at home. I grew to appreciate the possibility of having SOMEONE other than Donna Rae and my little sis in the house with me. Some OTHER guy...
I've held to this my whole life, and, even in dating women with kids, held this same respect for stepparents. It helped that I saw the admiration my mother and uncles held for THEIR stepfather (so much so, that they called him "Daddy"... and so did I), and I assumed that this is how all stepparents must be treated, right? Well, sometime during my school years, I started hearing the contempt that kids my age held for their own stepparents. Granted, as a child, when you lose a biological for any reason, you tend to have feelings that you can't properly come to grips with. And, as a child myself, I sided with the kids who felt slighted by their newfound parental units. But, that changed when I began to venture to these homes and meet said "devils". Most catered to these kids' every whim and desire, bending over backwards to be that "perfect" mom or dad. The kids, though, didn't want perfect, though. And of course, you had the ubiquitous, "step from hell" that literally went out of their way to belittle, demean, and psychologically destroy innocent kids. But those steps were the EXTREME minority.

Even with the worse case scenario step parents, why is there an instant resistance to anyone "new" in a single parent's life in the first place? Why do children of broken or even single parent homes long for the familiarity of disappointment? My wife was married previously, and all of her children are products of said marriage. She dated briefly before meeting me, and the kids all loved me (or maybe I'm being delusional, who knows...) because I was a constant in their lives. Seemed fair at the time. Anyhoo, during the two years that we dated, and the month into our marriage, I was privied to hear how she interacted with her two (2) stepdads as well as the high regard she held her biological in. During there convos, I got a glimpse at the inner-workings of a kid with S.P. Syndrome (step parent, for those who needed that one), and, frankly, it was disturbing to me. Her dad married her mom VERY young, and split, then REMARRIED her, only to split again. From this union, my wife was born. After daddy flew the coop, he moved away, and moved some more, taking the time, every so often, to make a quick phone call or even the "surprise" visit. This pleased my wife as a child. Mom remarried, to which a baby brother was born, and dad moved again... Hell, I'm getting bored writing this part... Long story shortened, Stepdad number two was a good guy, didn't last, but stepdad number three kinda sucked in her opinion... Now, she also claims that S.D. #3 was jealous of the fact that she loved said deadbeat biological, and thusly cut her off from his own love...

And this is where my confusion lies. Now, the closest I had to a father was my grandfather, but, it's not the same, but, I DO know that I never held ANY one man to the standards my grandfather set. I gave all of my mother's suitors a fair shake, and, they all had their pros and cons. The one who had the most enduring impression was my little sis's dad. Not because he spoiled me (and he did), not because he treated my mom like a queen (which he did), and not because I was desperate for a father figure (which I wasn't?). He was enduring to me because of his flaws. He broke promises to my sister (his ONLY biological daughter). He lied to me and my mother. He disappeared for years on end, only to lie and break MORE promises. And oddly enough, it's these qualities that had a POSITIVE effect on my life. I never wanted to replicate what he did to us, and I definitely never wanted to have anyone I loved feel about me the way we felt about him. He taught me, in a backwards kinda way, how to be a better father.

But, now I'm the stepfather. Three beautiful, healthy, smart kids (2 boys, a girl in the middle) became related to me through marriage. I, now, have the ability to shape and form their lives in a positive manner. And sadly, all I worry about is whether or not they will respect me, and accept me as a parent, not just a step.

Tha Real...

In all my infinite knowledge, there is one thing that has always eluded me: the definition of "real". Webster's and Oxford both claim the definition as "being of true and actual fact", but, that doesn't always end up being the case. My longing for the definition has been piqued recently with hip-hoppers claiming to be walking, talking, BREATHING epitomes of said meaning (usually being found out to be otherwise). Case in point, recently Miami d-boy rapper Rick Ross neé William Rogers was alleged to have fabricated his Tony Montana-esque exploits. Do I care? Definitely not, but, I'm also one of the few who don't live my life vicariously through the rhymes of others. But, the moment this "bombshell" made it's rounds through hip-hop media (rags and blogs), suddenly everyone from the ORIGINAL "Freeway" Ricky Ross to various artists had to express their two cents on how Mr. M-I-Yayo had ruined his standing in the hip-hop community. Everyone was clamoring to explain how he wasn't as "real" as he claimed to be... mind you, this is the same man who has claimed, on record, to know incarcerated Panamanian dictator Manuel Noriega (for you kiddies under 30, read about the Iran-Contra scandal under President Reagan...). Again, I don't live vicariously through someone else's rhymes, but even I knew that this guy isn't on a first name basis with Manuel Noriega! But, something about hip-hop gave this clown a pass to boast about drug deals so outrageous that REAL dope boys looked to him like some kind of patron saint of dealers! And it doesn't stop OR start with Mister "Trilla", rappers pasts being exposed is as was just as common in the 70's and 80's as it is now.


Which brings me to the other side of this word "real." Recently, Ice T made the internet go crazy when he verbally spanked 16 or 17 year-old rapper Soulja Boy. Ice's beef with young Soulja? Souja Boy's penchant for super-sugary pop hits like "Crank Dat (Superman)" and "YAHHH!!!" Ice even went so far as to blame the young'n for the decline in hip-hop sales, and the disinterest in hip-hop by fans of hardcore gangsta rap... Really, Ice? The man who recorded a happy little dance song for the movie "Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo"? The man that tried to go mainstream so badly that he decided to play a cop in, not only "New Jack City", but full-time on "Law & Order: SVU"? This, of course, AFTER he and his rock band cronies recorded that now infamous tune "Cop Killer". But, I digress... Ice (and ALL his supporters) claimed that the music that Soulja Boy created wasn't "real" (there's that word, again...) hip-hop. Happy, party-inspired, danceable music set to an uptempo beat isn't "real" hip-hop? Or is it that his music doesn't invoke vivid imagery of violence, misogeny, dope selling, pandering, or other staples of the gangsta rap genre? People of the hip-hop generation have always had some long standing desire to be relevant in irrelevant times, popularly, about irrelevant things...

50 Cent was shot (and grazed) 9 times in front of his grandmother's home, a fact that, in all it's grandeur, has very little to do with anything. 50 turned, what should've been, an experience to change his lifestyle, into a multimillion dollar hip-hop career. Now, what's real? Is it that, in being shot, 50 became impervious to any shots (be they physical OR verbal), or that his (God given) strong will and work ethic helped him pull himself up through tough times? Which would you choose to believe?

I, like most of my family members, are products of the hip-hop generation. We all have our likes and dislikes, but one thing we can't all agree upon is one, silly question: "Who's the greatest MC of ALL time?" You've read my blogs and, though, though I tend to favor southern rap more than most other regions, I feel diverse enough to display my own opinions. One cousin feels obligated, at his leisure, to engage in debate with me about this subject, and his case for why 2Pac is the greatest. "He's the realest nigga, EVER!!" is usually his arguement. "Okay," I retort, "what makes him so real? And why does that reserve him the place of G.O.A.T?" This, more often than not, causes a complete meltdown of any "civil" conversation...

Reality in rap music doesn't make me like a guy/gal any more/less. Because you found a way to avoid jailtime in your previous criminal endeavors, only to boast about them in simple rhyme structure does NOT impress me. The fact that you claimed to have been on more poles than Jeff Gordan and Kyle Busch COMBINED (that's a NASCAR reference on yo punk asses!!), only tells me that you take pride in your lack of moral fiber. Honestly, I listen to music like I watch movies and television, to ESCAPE reality. I live in a fucked up enough world that, by simply watching the news or reading a newspaper, I get bombarded with atrocities that seem like something from Michael Crichton's (damn, this guy's just name-dropping today!) latest novel. Why can't I escape to a land where everything is upbeat, and I don't have to worry about recessions, ridiculous gas prices, fixed elections, senseless murders, kangaroo courts, police corruption and brutality, phoney preachers, pedophiles, and rape? A place where I can "Supersoak that hoe!!", and my chain "hangs low", and maybe "wobbles to the flo"... a place where I can enjoy music for it's creativity AND it's social commentary... I don't know. Maybe I'm too REAL to ever understand or accept that place.

Who's In YOUR Fave 5?

Alright, my first installment got me some heat from a few folks (some posted, some just called me) from certain artist's places in MY list... Sad, really... Anyway, this go around, I am actually doing a Greatest of All-Time list* (yes, another asterik. Bite me if you don't agree). But, my fuckers, this time, I'm doing all-time rap GROUPS... Let the debate begin, again.

#10
Hot Boys
-- Okay, so we start with a southern group... Wow, who is NOT a fan of at least ONE of these guys? Juvenile may not have been a Cash Money original, but he definitely helped expose the country to their sound. BG? The man's the epitome of "Keepin' it real". And his music, though not as "mainstream" as it had been in Cash Money's heyday, still resonates in the trunks and homes of fans (and his recent affiliation with T.I ain't bad, either). Turk, legal problems aside, still gets respect from some. Maybe not as many as HE would like, but enough. And he did release a gold-selling solo album. And what about that one kid... You know, the nasal-y voiced one who couldn't curse? The kid who everyone thought looked like a gremlin, and never realy took seriously... Yeah, he's now known as Weezy F. and he's your favorite rapper's favorite rapper. Critically acclaimed mixtapes, most anticipated cd all year which sold platinum the WEEK of it's release... Yeah, thought you knew him, too. *My Fave Album: "Guerilla Warfare"

#9
Naughty By Nature
-- Treach, Vinnie, and Kay Gee, collectively known as Naughty By Nature, kinda took the world by surprise (by "the world", I mean ME, since, I was just a midwest kid with BET and MTV as my outlets to East Coast rap). It's true, Treach was once a hype man for Queen Latifah, while his very good friend Tupac Shakur (name sounds familiar...) was a roadie and back-up dancer for Digital Underground. Then "O.P.P" happened... Yeah. Woo, indeed. Of course, Naughty had crazy success, several classic anthems, Treach married Miss Deepthroat USA, Pepa (from Salt-n-Pepa), Kay Gee became a successful producer, etc. etc. *My Fave Album: "19 Naughty 3 (I may be wrong on title. Sue me.)

#8
Run-DMC
-- Now how can you NOT have Run-DMC on a G.O.A.T list? Easily the best tandem rap group of the 80's, especially when trading rhymes/sharing bars. Run, DMC, and dj Jam Master Jay are not just hip-hop pioneers, but, are responsible for MTV's love affair with hip-hop, thus making hip-hop more "pop" friendly. After selling hip-hop's FIRST platinum record, being the FIRST hip-hop act to air a video on MTV, headlining the FIRST major hip-hop tour, and being the FIRST hip-hop group inducted into the Rock N Roll HOF, what else do they have to prove? Oh yeah, Run became an ordained minister and tv star, DMC continued rapping and found his birth mother, and JMJ... sadly, left us WAY too early. *My Fave Album: "Tougher Than Leather"

#7
Wu-Tang Clan
-- It started with a simple and catchy refrain "Wu-Tang Clan ain't nothin' to fuck wit'!" and history was written. Coming out of Staten Island, Wu-Tang transformed hip-hop music with all 9 members and their MULTIPLE alter egos. With RZA providing the background via 70's soul samples, rhyme monsters like Method Man, Raekwon, Ghostface Killa, U-God, and Ol' Dirty Bastard recounted tales of drug deals, street survival, 5 Percent doctrine, and kung-fu flicks. And EVERYBODY in the crew was and is a bonafide star. Meth, the most visual of the crew, branched off into solo work, dropping the critically acclaimed "Tical" and "Blackout" with Redman, then transitioned into tv and movies, appearing in episodes of "Law & Order: SVU", "Moesha", & "The Wire" as well as "Belly", "How High", and "Soul Plane". Ghostface and Raekwon dropped the classic "Only Built for Cuban Links", while ODB became something like a phenomenon, showing up everywhere, from singles with Mariah Carey, to crashing the Grammy's to insist that "Wu is for the kids". RZA kept his presence felt by scoring "Kill Bill" 1&2 for Quentin Tarintino, then showing up in "American Gangster". GZA, remained loyal to Wu fans dropping a critically acclaimed "Liquid Swords" while U-God stayed quiet. All in all, if YOU can't see how Wu changed the game, you need to kill yo'self (shouts to Li'l Duvall)! *My Fave Album: "Enter the 36 Chambers"

#6
Geto Boys
-- Getting kinda close to number 1... I wonder who's gonna be pissed about THIS top 5... Anyway, Houston's finest, Scarface, Willie D, and Bushwick Bill (and I have to mention Big Mike, as well) epitomized Houston rap, and the frustrations of Southern acts struggling to be heard in the early to mid 90's. Though mostly unknown to the masses, in 1991 the trio broke nationwide with their ode to paranoia "Mind Playin' Tricks". Mainstream success didn't stay true to the collective, but, the respect they've garnered throughout the years as Southern legends have created successful legacies for each of them.* My Fave Album: "The Ressurection"

#5
N.W.A
-- Who didn't see N.W.A making this list? If you did, you should slap yourself! I don't even have to give a long drawn out list of reasons why, either. Ice Cube: One of the greatest lyricists of all time. Dr. Dre: One of the most, if not THE most influential hip-hop producer of all-time. Eazy E: Original gangsta, and pioneer of gangsta rap music, as well as one of hip-hop's FIRST moguls. MC Ren: Though the quiet one of the crew, still one of the dopest lyricists of his time, helping Cube helm most of the legendary rhymes spit by the collective. And if that's not enough, the family tree from this group is mind boggling: From Eazy you get the most successful Midwest group in Bone Thugs N Harmony. From Dre, you get the Death Row juggernaut of the 90's including 2Pac, Snoop Dogg, and The Dogg Pound, from His Aftermath years, you get Eminem, by osmosis, 50 Cent, and Compton flag waver The Game. Ice Cube: Mack 10 and WC. Hell, even DJ Yella brought porn into the fray!! 'Nuff said. * My Fave Album: "Niggaz 4 Life"

#4
Paul Wall and Chamillionaire
-- What's a G.O.A.T list without a little controversy? A lot of you out there probably never knew this group existed before 2005, but, yes, they did! And they wrecked! Releasing just ONE (damn, ya'll gotta reconcile and give us some more!) original composition cd (let's face it, fans... even though Koopa wrecked on "Controversy Sells" that was a hodge-podge of one takes and backbiting on behalf of Paid in Full...), they established themselves as goto guys in Houston's burgeoning underground tsunami. Being a part of Michael Watts' Swishahouse collective gave them the exposure to show how dynamic and refreshing their sound was, and, when "Get Ya Mind Correct" was released June 25, 2002 on Paid in Full Records, they proved their worth, selling over 150,000 copies without major label backing (they were also nominated for a Source Award... BEFORE Houston was a problem...)! Sadly, all good things come to an end, as the group parted ways amongst rumors of jealousy, etc. Both artists went on to have successful solo careers, Paul with Swishahouse (releasing 2 albums, both gold) and Koopa with his own Chamilitary imprint through Universal (his first, "Sound of Revenge" going platinum). * My Fave Album: "Get Ya Mind Correct."

#3
Eightball and MJG
-- Okay, I guess I'm back in some of you alls good graces, again with this one. Ball and G are a southern rap institution. Period. Emerging from Orange Mound, in Memphis, Tennessee in 1993 with the classic "Coming Out Hard", the pimpish duo introduced the nation to a sound we'd never heard before from Memphis, paving the way for acts such as Gangsta Pat, Kingpin Skinny Pimp, Ska Face Al Kapone, and Three Six Mafia, to name a few. They also gave noteriety to a little known Houston imprint, Suave House Records, and it's enigmatic founder, Tony Draper. Over the years, Ball and G have released hit after hit, collaborated with the past, present, and future of Southern hip-hop, and continued to stay relevant after over 15 years in the game. * My Fave Album: "Lyrics of a Pimp"

#2
U.G.K
-- It's almost a given at this point... I am VERY partial when it comes to southern hip-hop, especially since the lion's share of this list contains said artists. It should NOT, however, be mistaken as a pity placement, nor an error in judgement to see Pimp C and Bun B at number two on this or ANY G.O.A.T list! Since 1992, UGK have been the preeminent torch bearers for the south, and Texas, in general. The P.O.P.E of Port Arthur and Sweet James Jones are O.G.s in every sense of the term, and have earned the resopect of EVERY artist from East to West, North to South. Every album has been a critical success, and they pride themselves on being consistent for their FANS sake. For such loyalty, their fans have reciprocated by pushing every UGK release to, at least, gold status, and their final opus the self titled "Underground Kings" to platinum success. Fans even stuck through rough times when Pimp was sentenced to 8 years in prison, rallying behind Bun B and his "Free Pimp C" campaign. And fans still ride with UGK, even after the untimely passing of Pimp, late last December. Bun says it better than anyone, "You know it's UGK fo' LIFE!" Rest in Peace Chad Butler bka Pimp C aka Sweet James Jones... * My Fave Album: "Supertight"

#1
OutKast
-- Believe it or not, I struggled with the top 2 for about three weeks. But, eventually, something I'd long forgotten suddenly came to mind: Big and Dre are MONSTERS!!! From "Southernplayalisticcadillacmuzik" through "Speakerboxxx/The Love Below", OutKast has easily been the most consistent group from the South, East, OR West over the past 15 years. And, please don't get it confused, this is NOT a one-man group. Sir Lucious Leftfoot is easily one of the top lyricists out of the south, and given the opportunity, will infiltrate many all-time top ten lists before long. And what can I say about Mr. 3000, that hasn't been said by ANYBODY else? Easily in top 5 dead or alive (yeah, if you notice, my last list didn't feature him. A gross misjudgement on my part.), and he stopped rapping for about 4 years!! With both men gearing up for their OFFICIAL solo releases, expect to hear more online chittter chatter, and hip-hop quotables from these two icons. *My Fave Album: "ATLiens"

Okay, kiddies, that's my list and I'm sticking to it. Let the debate begin, again...

HAPPY BORN DAY TO...

ME!!!!!!!!! Yes, today, the kid becomes a man... sorta. I've made it past the midway hump, and am OFFICIALLY on the final leg of the race to 30! I look back at today though, and have to thank one person, my mom, for giving me the chance to have the life that I have. A beautiful wife and kids, friends that will do ANYTHING for me, and the opportunity to entertain you with my words and my magazine. At exactly 8:47 am, on June 10, 1981, Donna Marie brought me into this world. And I will spend the rest of my life making her proud of me and my accomplishments. I love you, Ma!

REST IN PEACE AND MY LOVE!!!

Mama's Boy

Enough Of Tha Bull!!!

Aight, look... I'm a Laker fan. A PROUD, purple-and-gold bleeding, long-before-Kobe-came-along LAKER-FUCKIN'-FAN. As the world knows, the Lakers are in the finals against the Boston Celtics, and the Lakers LOST a tough Game One. The big story from that game is, of course, Paul Pierce's "miraculous" comeback to lift the Celtics to victory... I call BULLSHIT! Matter of fact, I call double and triple bullshit, based on the fact that people compare P2's injury to Willis Reed's LEGITIMATE injury from the 70's. Boston is a good team. I can be appreciative of a hard-working, GOOD team. But, that "miracle" that happened on Thursday night was low. For those uninitiated, Paul went down when HIS teammate bumps his knee while going for a rebound, about halfway through the 3rd quarter. Paul hits the deck, supposedly heard a "pop" and immediately clutches his right knee. Then, for dramatic purposes I believe (since he can't stand on it), a trainer and a teammate hoist Paul into their arms and carry him to a waiting wheelchair while he softly weeps in pain... Does anybody else hear my tiny violin yet? TV commercial (two minutes elapse), game comes back and, just as action begins again on the court, a backstage camera shows *gasp* a rejuvenated Paul Pierce SKIPPING back to courtside (oh, to all my current and former athletes, his cause of pain? A sprained knee... read on for my disgust and explanation), of course, to a uproarious ovation from the crowd, with a slow motion camera pan to Kevin Garnett pumping his fist and mouthing "YES!" (God, this was SO cheesy, I literally expected the "Rocky" theme to start playing!)... Now, anyone who has ever had a sprained joint (ankle, knee, finger, etc.) knows that there is NO way you bounce back from a knee or ankle sprain in 2 minutes time and skip, run, or jog on it, let alone walk (that's wearing a brace or sleeve, too) on it! I don't deny the fact that Boston played a better second half of basketball, they're pros. They get PAID to do that. I don't use the excuse that Kobe, Lamar, Pau, AND Derek ALL have seen better games. But please, don't sully the word "miracle" or the word "comeback" with the antics of Paul Pierce from Thursday night. This is a best of seven series, featuring some of the best and brightest talent that the NBA has to offer, and there will be MORE jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring moments to come.


P.S. Lakers in 6 games...

Who's In Your Fave 5?

Alright kiddies, it's debate time!! Anybody who calls himself a hip-hop fan has a top 10 all-time* list, and I'm no different. Well, maybe a little. My list has an asterik next to it (a lá Major League Baseball records) because I'm man enough to admit that I might change my mind... But, enough ballyhooing, you want it, I got it: Tha List...

#10
2Pac
-- Say what you want, he stays at number 10. He was a presence, he was transcindent, he was talented. But, his off the mic antics, paired with his penchant for being a method actor (look back through his history of movie roles and you'll see a pattern) lead to him being mythologized and, in the eyes of the adoring hip-hop community, martyred. *My Fave Album: "Me Against The World"

#9
LL Cool J
-- Let's be honest, Uncle L has done a lot in his 20 years in the game. Most memorable, of course, are his beefs with various rappers: Canibus, Ice-T, MC Hammer, Jamie Foxx, Kool Moe Dee... I'd probably have him higher on my list if it weren't for the fact that ONLY 2 out of the 5 actually posed a lyrical threat (Ice probably would've shot him)! *My Fave Album: "Bigger And Deffer"

#8
Scarface
-- Southern heads know exactly why 'Face is on the list. In respect to outright lyricism and vivid storytelling, the man born Brad Jordan is head and shoulders above many. Commercially, though, he's not as well known or appreciated, except for his recurring role in the DJV (Def Jam Vendetta) series and his signing of a very popular dj-turn-rapper from Atlanta.* My Fave Album: "The Diary"

#7
Ludacris
-- One of my few pop favorites (but, then again, most of this list will be pop... go fig...) but, he can back it up. The former "Chris Lova Lova" is an offical monster, blessing remixes and cameos and making them HITS. My beef with him... none. He gave me the grown up album that he owed me. *My Fave Album: "Release Therapy"

#6
Notorious B.I.G
-- No, it's not a mistake. B.I.G is just outside my top 5. Like Pac, he was talented, he was transcindent, and he was a literal and figurative presence. But, you never got to see the man's flaws, only dropping one album prior to his untimely death ("Life After Death" was released shortly after March 9, 1997). After said releases, several rehashings and remixes (he did record for Puffy, folks) kept his music available to new fans, but, it just wasn't enough.* My Fave Album: "Life After Death"

#5
Jay-Z
-- Ooh, I hear boos already. Yes, Jay bested B.I.G by one spot, and beat Pac by 5 spots. Let's look at the facts: Multiple number one albums, baddest chick in the game (wearing HIS chain), former boss of Def Jam (he voluntarily stepped down), bar for bar one of the best EVER. Not to mention he is one of the most sought after collaborators, and with a mere mention of your name, he can (positively or negatively) affect not JUST your status in the game, but your record sales.* My Fave Album: "In My Lifetime Vol. 1"

#4
Eminem
-- What?!? A white boy better than Hova, B.I.G, Pac AND no NAS (so far?!?)?!? Yes, a white boy better (to me) than Jay, B.I.G, and Pac. Why? Simple. Beat him rapping. Anybody can step up, and he is SO competitive that I've actually heard him out rap HIMSELF (listen to "Renegade" on Jay's Blueprint album). Now, he has flaws (we've all heard the "Encore" album) but, even on a bad day, he better than your favorite rapper.* My Fave Album: "The Slim Shady LP"

#3
Twista
-- Wow. Twista better than Em? Again, this list is of my FAVORITES not necessarily in exact order of WHO'S actually better than who, but who I like. Twista caught my attention when he stole the ENTIRE song with one verse on "Po' Pimp" (Do or Die for you young'ns). Soon after, his classic banger "Adrenaline Rush" dropped and it did EXACTLY that, BANGED. The concept of story between the tracks was different (at the time) and it's an album that stands the test of time against other "classic" albums released that same year.* My Fave Album: "Adrenaline Rush"

#2
E-40
-- That's right! 40 Water is out ranks Hov, B.I.G, Pac, and Em. He's the most innovative spitter in the game, and everybody from Cali-foolya to NY spits his slang without acknowledgment of the creator. Plus, he's been grinding in the game since the late 80's-early 90's pioneering the independent hustle. The Ambassador of tha Bay has also stayed relevant through the years, especially with his affiliation with the Hyphy movement. Only one other man commands the type of respect that 40 does and he's my number one...* My Fave Album: "Charlie Hustle: Blueprint of a Self-Made Millionaire"

#1
Bun-B
-- I don't even need to say anything... but I will. Pimp C said something on their final opus together that he would "put a hunn'ed thousand on any monkey ass nigga from yo city" and guaranteed that Bun would crush them. I second that notion. Not only is he one of, if not, THE coldest man with a pen and a mic, he's humble, and one of the most intelligent men on and off the mic. If you need any reference to how cold he is: "Murder" from Ridin' Dirty, "Cocaine" from Underground Kings, or "That's Gangsta" from II Trill.* My Fave Album: "Trill" (note: fave UGK album "Supertight")

Well fans, that's the list, sports fans. Let the debates begin. Peace and God Bless.

Crossing The Line

Most days, as I listen to my local radio station, I feel the responsibility of my generation. The full weight of a mere decade's worth of years seperation between the 30-25 year-old crowd and the 15-20 year-old generation, or as Whitney put it "our future". "Why," you may ask either quietly or out loud? Because we set the standard, then, in what is seeming to be the calling card of this generation, changed our fucking minds as to what is deemed "normal" or "acceptable" by society's norms. Case in point. About a month and a half ago, on a beautiful Sunday afternoon that normally would've had my kids and wife (emphasis on KID'S, here) in the car with me on our way to Sunday dinner (instead, I was leaving work), across the radio comes the commercial for, I swear on a stack of anything I hold holy, a BIG BOOTY White Girl contest at a local nightclub... I'll pause while you compose yourselves. Now, not only was this a contest to determine an opponent for the following week's winner of a Big Booty Sista contest (sigh), apparently my generation's definition of a big booty "white" girl, is ANY female that's not black... Asian, Hispanic, Indian (red dot AND feathers), any persuasion "other than" automatically gets lumped in under the "white" label.
My disappointment lies not only with our fascination with the celebrated posterior anamolies of white girls, but with how our generation will be remebered throughout history. We seem hell-bent on being the most sexually explicit, most promiscuous, least educated, least motivated, least politically aware generation THIS side of Jesus' birth and death. Now, though this may seem like a tirade directed squarely at my fellow Afro-turned-Americans, it's not. It's not COMPLETELY our fault, but damned if we aren't standing still watching this shit happen (a stance that will be discussed in a later blog). This is a collaborative effort FROM all races that needs to be addressed BY all races. The decline of standards is not due to hip-hop music, rock music, television or movies. The decline of standards is due to the lack of families behaving as families and NOT as individuals living under the same roof. The lack of standards are due to the acceptance of mediocrity within our school systems. None of these are racial or classist flaws, yet, we being a racist and classist society, these are seen as problems ONLY within urban demographic areas.
We crossed a line decades ago when we decided that the fate of this nation rested on the shoulders of the wealthy and disassociated minority. Now, I'm FAR from being a Karl Marx-supporter (I'm VERY pro-capitalist), but I do believe in the quote, "a country for the people, by the people." That's the dichotemy of being American, I guess.

I realize that the responsibility I feel as I listen to the radio, or catch myself stupefied by an episode of "Maury" (and get excited EVERY time I hear "You are NOT the father!"), is simply maturity finally catching up with me. With that reality check, I look back at my generation at 15-20 and see eerie similarities (2008 = Soulja Boy, 1998 = Freak Nasty... need I continue?) to the current crop of tomorrow's future. Though I bitch and moan now, much like my mother did when she didn't understand the bullshit that I fed my brain THEN, I must have faith that we will be of the same assistance that OUR elders were in guiding us on the path we're on (be it positive or negative). And pray that a "white" girl never beats a black girl in a "Big Booty Shake-off"...

Guess what? Daddie'z Home...

Welcome. Bienvenue. Wilkkomen. ¡Hola! I figured I'd give you, my new fans, as multicultural a greeting as you'll ever get from me. Ever. For those uninitiated, my name is R. Clark, the highly intelligent, very outspoken Publisher/EIC of "Middle of Da Map" Magazine, the Midwestern hip-hop mag that hustles harder than you do.

I decided to start this blog for a few reasons, the most important one being to get MY voice and MY company out here in a very public forum. Secondly, I feel an obligation as an EIC to challenge the public's view of status quo, via ME playing devil's advocate to most opinions you hold dearly. Common sense is at a record low, people... I'm your refresher course in it. I know that a lot of people use these blogs as personal diatribes, trying to give you, the consumer, a glimpse into their personal world. Not me. What I will give you is my solemn promise that when you read entries in this blog, you WILL be entertained, and you MIGHT learn something new. What I will also promise you is that, I WILL be as biased and bullheaded as humanly possible, because, THAT'S the kind of person I am. Thank you for reading this far, now let's begin our scheduled program...


The Truth Behind "Ignorant Bliss."

I was driving home the other day, when my brother enlightened me (via text message) to something he nor I ever cared to know. Being residents of this fine mess of the United States of America, we have indulged in the culinary monstrosities known as "fast food" on MORE than our fair share of occasions. The dire-ness of his text was made more humorous to me due to the fact that I could sense the moment that he realized that he may be a pig. His message read simply: "A Monster Burger™ has 990 calories and 72 grams of fat. Christ..."
Now, to those unaware, Monster Burgers™ are the unholy meaty paradise concocted by those lovely people at Hardee's/Carl Jr.'s to enslave people with over-active saliva glands (as per the commercial they aired about a year back). Made of 2 (two) "100% Black Angus (note: Does a fast food burger REALLY need this kind of decadence? ed.) all-beef patties", cheese, mayo, and a whopping EIGHT (8) strips of bacon, anyone who dared eat this beacon of fatty indulgence DESERVES the ensuing heart stoppage it will ultimately cause!! C'MON PEOPLE!!! By no means am I attempting to slander the company, because, I've been known to partake in it's beefy goodness. BUT, (and if you eat more than one a week, the pun IS intended) you've gotta have restraint!! My brother is a healthy guy, but, as black men, we HAVE to stay on top of our diets as we inch closer and closer to the big 3-0. Diabetes aka "Sugar-betes", high cholesterol, high blood pressure, hypertension, colon cancer, prostate cancer, ALL affect us, and are ALL affected by the diets we follow.
Now, Lord forbid this be a singular rant directed at the fast food industry, this is a look at Ignorant Bliss. The wonderful acceptance of not knowing, that ALWAYS retributes and bites people in the ass. Like smokers who think that if they ONLY smoke a pack a week, that they won't get cancer... smfh. Or, that age old urban myth that a virgin won't get pregnant her first time... It's thoughts like these that lead me to believe that retarded is becoming part of "regular" society. When did it become okay to NOT pay attention to warning signs and common sense? A part of me wants to believe that this is God and "Chuckles" Darwin's way of having a collaborated laugh together. The other part of me sees the plot of "Idiocracy" playing out in real-life, and as unfunny as that movie was, the prospect of a world full of George W.'s is downright horrific.

Peace.