If you know me remotely well, you know I have hang-ups about my mother. For a long time, even still really, I feel out of sorts. I'm the black kid who doesn't have that undying love for his mama. I wasn't the black kid who was ready to throw hands if you made a mama joke. Don't get me wrong though, for a long time, I was fiercely loyal to my mother. If school administrators asked questions, I'd deny or lie. If my grandmother or father asked questions, I'd deny or lie. No matter how severe or how minute, I would not let up. But since the day I moved out of my mother's house in Princeton to move with my father in DC, I knew my life for about a five-year stretch was shit. Pure shit. And yes, I blame her. I don't hold it against her, but I do blame her for a lot of it.
My mom, as I am told at least, was a woman of insecurity. It's hard to believe though. She was highly intelligent, well-read, bilingual (and she's not Latin, so that's saying something), and really good looking. I can remember moments throughout my childhood, conversations with my mom about anything from what it meant to be black to why I thought Peg Bundy was hot. For most of my life, she was a warm woman. She was pretty fun to be around, but I can't really say I remember doing much with her. My dad was that parent, the one who said let's go to the park and all. Nonetheless, she had no reason to be insecure at all. She probably sold herself well short. I suppose I have a bit of that myself. Anyway, I can honestly say I don't remember much about my mom prior to my parents' separation. But I can definitely say now, that's when everything changes.
If my mom did have insecurities, confidence issues, low self-esteem, whatever you want to call it, then I can only imagine how it must feel for her to find out her husband and college sweetheart was gay. When I was in third grade, I couldn't understand that. In fact, my dad and maternal grandmother will tell you I didn't know my dad was gay until well into eighth or ninth grade. And even more odd, my dad says he told me shortly after the separation. I suppose I repressed it. But back to the point. Low self-esteem and a gay husband, that can't be easy to handle for a black woman's psyche. I'm not excusing, but I am understanding.
We can continue to extrapolate this too. Most people will say I look like whichever of my parents they meet first. Although I do see where I got some of my mother's DNA, when I look in the mirror, all I see is my dad's family. So now let's go back to our equation. Low self-esteem. Gay husband. Child who looks just like your gay husband, the husband that ultimately deceived you and made you completely vulnerable. When I add all of that in my head, I see why it was such a perfect storm of bad parenting from my mom.
None of this is to say I had the worst childhood ever. I didn't. I had a home. I sometimes had food. I had clothes one way or another. I usually had lunch money. My mom even found a way to put me in summer camp twice. I cannot say she locked me in a closet and fed me bread crumbs while telling me God hates me or whatever insane people do to their kids. While it wasn't the worst childhood, it certainly wasn't the best or even good. Hell, even average. I'd have to say it was below average. My personality will forever be scarred by some of the things that happened while in my mother's care.
Take for instance, in my last days in Baltimore, where I was raised, my mom was near her worst. She may have had a job, or she may not have. Can't say for sure. She had a couple of sugar daddies, two max, for whom she could do something strange for some change and keep the rent paid. I guess by this point both of them were gone and mom was completely tapped financially. I can remember going to our refrigerator and seeing nothing but Arm and Hammer on the shelves, and then a door full of condiments. It was during this time where I went two whole days without eating anything. Mind you, I'm in sixth grade. Deep in puberty, growing boy. I should be eating a whole buffet. Nothing. I think I got so bad that I had low energy and displayed a slight shaking motion all over. What's a woman to do? I guess she called her dear friend because she came over with a chicken quarter just for me. Small white plate, covered in foil. She gave me a hug, helped me eat and let me know my mom loved me and was just going through hard times right now but everything will be fine. Back then, I thought what the hell is going on that we have nothing? Not a single morsel of food? Thinking about it now, I can only imagine how much pride she had to swallow to call a friend and tell her that her only child is shaking and needs something, anything to eat.
The bulk of my bad memories though come from the four years we lived in Princeton. It's funny. My time in Princeton is so dear to my heart because I believe it was the most fun I've ever had in life, but I also believe it's why I'm so cynical and distant.
Food was always a huge issue. Another time where we didn't have much in the kitchen, I can remember a man my mother was seeing came by to bring me a dinner plate. He did well for himself. He owned a corner store in town, had a home, had food, good enough for me. I wanted my mother to get serious about him desperately. Not for herself but for me. I liked eating. No dice though. But I can remember that dinner too: white oval plate, some decent cut of steak, roasted potatoes, broccoli. That was eating.
Most times we had no food, I'd go out to my best friend's house. He was a good kid. We were both geeks, nerdy as hell, but because it was Princeton, we could kinda feel like bad asses. We did all kinds of stupid shit like stealing his girlfriend's mother's car and driving around town or going on the highway in search of the Jersey Devil. How dumb were we? A 13 year old and a 12 year old in a car at 2 AM, getting on the interstate to find a mythical creature in the Pine Barrens. I don't know how well you know New Jersey, but Mercer County is nowhere near the Pine Barrens. But he was my homeboy for real. When my mother would beat my ass over... shit I still really don't know, I'd run away, hop on a bike and ride to his house and just stay. He never asked questions, he never made fun. He'd open his home to me, and that was that.
I can even remember one night his mother made us dinner. Now I'm sure she had a clue that my home life left much to be desired, but she never let on to it. She was really a good person. Anyway, she made us dinner, and I demolished it. I had never had it before, but I loved it. I ate like a king. Probably the next day or maybe later in the week, my dad called and I'd always give him a rundown of shit in my life. Enough to say hey, something's wrong, but not too much to say hey, mom sucks. I told him I had dinner at my friend's house and how great it was. Curious, he asked what I ate. I told him. Chicken backs. I guess those two words were huge red flags. If I'm eating chicken backs at a friend's house and raving about how great it was, then I must seriously not be getting fed at home.
Along this very same line, I can remember one time I got fed up. No food as always, but now she had this super deadbeat boyfriend whom she "loved". He was such a dick. No job, no car, nothing going for him. He was just big and bald and could make my mom come. Oh and he had the in on cocaine. My mom definitely had an affinity for coke. And in New Jersey, it just grew to be a bigger addiction. But anyway, I had left to visit my Dad in DC for the weekend as I often did. I came back home on Amtrak. My grandmother picked me up and drove me to Princeton from Trenton and then took herself back to Trenton. I guess my mother's car was on the fritz. I walked in, put my bag down, said hi to the douchebag, and gave moms a hug. That's when it happened. She asked me to do the dishes. I hadn't been home since Friday. We had no food. What dishes?! I go to the kitchen and it was all in my face. They had cake, they had steaks, they had sodas, they had chips, popcorn, all kinds of shit. And left it for me to clean. I'd been there all week and we had nothing. What's going on? I told her it wasn't fair. She yanked the extension cord out the wall, beat my ass from one side of the house to the other. After I was done crying, I licked my wounds and did the dishes.
I did get my revenge though. One night, my mother made chicken wings for all of us and they had a few and took a nap. There were probably 12-15 wings still. While they were sleeping, I ate every single fucking wing on that plate. And drank all the juice. Then they woke up. He snitched on me. Out came the extension cord and again, from one end of the house to the other.
If it wasn't food, it was something else. Back when the northeast had that bad blizzard in the early-mid 90s, I was the only kid who had to get the few groceries we ever had. Feet of snow outside, my mother decides she just wants to lay on the couch in her robe. Fuck the fact that she had a car, she didn't care. Nigga, go get your Huffy and try to traverse feet of snow and ice and don't forget a fucking thing at the store or you're going back. Oh but before you go back, do expect the extension cord, and do expect to go from wall to wall.
I couldn't understand it. All of my friends' mothers, they may discipline their sons with force, but none of them were getting demolished like I did. I would go to school with welts on my hands and arms from trying to catch the cord or block it. I had teachers, guidance counselors, other people's parents ask if there was any trouble at home. I'd always say no, I got this bruise from whatever lame excuse or I got that welt from whatever other lame excuse. I know they didn't believe it but state law handcuffed them. They did however stick me in a programme for what I now guess was disadvantaged youth. Every Tuesday during lunch, I'd go to Gents. A few boys my age, a male role model, all of us were black I think, and we'd get a hoagie from Hoagie Haven, the best hoagie spot in New Jersey. For a kid who often didn't have lunch nor lunch money, that hoagie was like fucking ambrosia. I would have went to hear a dissertation on mating rituals of African cockroaches back then just for that hoagie. But after Gents, the guy would always inquire about whatever bruises or welts I had and if things were fine at home. I never told. I wish I had.
Four years is a long time to go without eating regularly but regularly getting your ass kicked from one end of the house to the other. And I wish I was exaggerating. And boy, she always would work me into a corner. I can still see me in my room, moving furniture around to prevent me from being backed into a corner where she could unleash her anger, her hatred, her hurt. Thinking about all of it now, she wasn't beating me. She was beating my dad. I just looked and acted like him. The ferocity and viciousness though, to me, that suggests her beatings were a coping mechanism. Plus she was always hopped up on cocaine. I stood no chance.
Hell one time she even waited for me to come out of the shower just to beat me. I can remember opening the bathroom door with my towel on, her yanking me out of there and the extension cord just crashing across my chest and back. And of course, I got pinned in a corner. And in all the commotion, my towel came off. And right there, a tremendous strike across the groin. My charge? I didn't take the trash out. That was my crime. I would scream and scream endlessly. No neighbour ever helped. No one called any hotline. All I wanted was for one of us to die. And that's very true. I'd often think of numerous ways I could kill her and maybe get away with it.
Thank god for that friend. I could run the streets with him all day and get away when I really needed him or anyone. There was this one instance where I left my textbook in my locker. I couldn't do my homework and though normally she didn't care about my schooling, that night she chose to care. It was after 7:30 no doubt, so the school was definitely locked. She told me to get the fuck out of the house now and go get that book and when I came home, expect to get my ass whooped. I hopped on my Huffy, rode down the street to Princeton High, and every single door was locked. I got back on my bike, face streaming with tears, fearing punishment. I rode home and before I got off the bike, I rode over to my friend's house and stayed the night and the next. It was the weekend, thank god. I didn't actually have to go home. Divine intervention, I guess.
When I finally moved with my dad, I talked to my mom less and less. The way I moved is kinda shady, but that's for a later episode. I guess my absence made her heart grow fonder. Shame. It only made mine grow colder. I can only remember seeing her twice after leaving New Jersey and I left in 1997. The last time I saw her was the summer of 2005 and it was my last year in college. On the drive from Tallahassee to DC, my dad and I stopped by to see her in South Carolina. It was great seeing her. I have a picture hanging on my wall from that day. I look at it and think, "Wow, I have one moment where I look really happy to be with my mom." Granted it only took eight years to cool everything down, but that moment existed and it's documented.
Three years later, I vowed to never speak to her again. In November of 2006, I was dating a girl who reminded me a lot of my mom. I eventually decided to say let's be adults and fix this. I called her on Thanksgiving day from my then-girlfriend's parents' home. I had written her a letter too. I only said, look, you're the adult and it's a shame that I have to come to you to get you to fix this. Just say you're sorry. We don't need to recount the stories, the incidents, none of it. Just let me know you are legitimately sorry and we can fix this. She did, and finally I felt like we were going to be okay.
By the end of December 2006, she was coming up to suburban Baltimore and being relatively close, she wanted to see me. Now, we had just be come friends again. Seeing her though, eh, I don't know. I had told her that my weekends I have a routine and plans set but let me know by Thursday and I'll make something happen. Thursday came, Friday came, and by Saturday, she's calling me. Now my girlfriend was in town visiting me, and we're getting ready to go out. My mom calls my dad, tells him that I'm being an asshole and whatever else. I get on the phone and she says, "Who the fuck do you think you are?" I must have lost it because I cursed her out for the next ten minutes and then hung up the phone. I couldn't stop. It was word vomit. It was raw emotion, stored anger. My dad came in and told me he was worried about me and if I'm becoming jaded or cold because I just wasn't the same about my family as I used to be. I didn't care about that shit. It's New Years and my girlfriend is waiting. I never felt better than that day.
By Thanksgiving 2009, she died. I didn't go to her funeral. I really didn't have a way, but if I did, I still wouldn't have. I don't regret that either. I don't regret not talking to her. Some things just have to be done. My vulnerabilities, my emotional scarring, a lot of them come from her. My family would always tell me to talk to my mom, I only get one mother, one day she won't be there. I told them basically to fuck themselves because they don't know the extent of my pain. Looks like I won that one.
Weirdly though, in her death, I found appreciation for her. Not that I think she was a good mom suddenly, or that I even miss her. But now that she's dead, I can balance her evilness with the few nuggets of mother's love I remember. Like when I was in fifth grade and somehow she got me brand new shoes for Christmas. I had come to never expect anything from her during Christmas. We had no food. Why would I have a gift? But I remember coming home from my dad's and she went to the tree and came up with a present. Brand new white Pumas. Kids back then weren't wearing Pumas, so I knew I'd be laughed at and become the butt of jokes, but I didn't care. My mother, my fucking mother, got me shoes. They could have been the ugliest shoes ever and I still would have been elated. I wore the fuck out of those Pumas.
The woman also paid for my pledge fees. I wouldn't be a Sigma right now if she didn't come through with the money. I can remember when we first moved to Princeton from New Orleans, and all we had was two plastic lawn chairs and a TV. She went out on a run, came back with a tub of Breyer's Vanilla, and we sat in those chairs and watched reruns of Evening Shade and Major Dad. I can remember one time where we had no food but I found a bag of rice and a tomato and an onion. I don't know what I cooked or how, but somehow I made it taste good. I placed it on a plate, poured some juice, took it into my mom's bedroom and presented it to her. The smile on her face, the genuine joy that her son, also starving, took time to try and do something about it and make her feel loved too. I see it like it just happened.
My mother wasn't an evil woman. She was a scorned woman. I just happened to be the one who suffered from her fury. My relationships with women have been and will always be fucked up and twisted because of the nature of our own, but I can't rest on that. One thing my mother never did was work on herself. She wallowed in her misery. Thankfully, I'm too heady and try to analyze and pick out the things that make me tick and adjust them. Like take for instance, my dad always asks why I'm not closer to my family. I always say to me, my friends are more like family than family. But if you think about it, when my mother was going ape shit, I turned to my friend for solace and a place to hide. Over time, I learned to turn to a friend and push away family.
I do sometimes wish I had talked to her one last time though. Not for me though, no. For her. I feel sorry for her to have to die knowing that her only child refused to talk to her. But hey, shit happens.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Sunday, March 18, 2012
2.12 -- SEASON FINALE: Four Personal Events That Have Changed Me (For the Better?)
Thank god. Finally, 12 episodes of pointless lists. Finally, the shit is over. Well, actually not quite seeing how I still have this whole entry to finish. I gave you a lot of bullshit about sports, music, political figures, and other drivel. I'm using this one, the season two finale, to be more personal. It should read as a prelude into season three. Season three will only be four episodes but will be entirely personal and introspective, centred on the four people in my life who've shaped me the most in one way or another.
Either way, let's get on with this miserable show. I did some thinking about four of the most pivotal moments in my life that have made me the cantankerous asshole I am today. Some of it may have made me cold and distant, some of it idealistic and intellectual. Whatever the case, they've definitely changed me enough to the point where I can pinpoint it. Here we go.
4. Reading the Communist Manifesto for the first time. I discovered the Marx and Engels book somewhere in the seventh grade. I was living in Princeton and maybe heard my grandmother mention it or perhaps even a teacher. I can definitely remember going to the public library and checking it out. My initial thought was how can something so tiny be so immense to the world of political and economic thought? If you've never seen it, it's more like a pamphlet than an epic tome. Regardless, I read the book in maybe three days. In so few pages, it packs a lot of ideology. Obviously I didn't understand all of it, and I've read it maybe ten to twelve times since and still don't totally understand all of it. It's one of the most complex works I've ever read. One thing it did do though was make me Marxist. It's hard not to really be Marxist though, I feel. Most of us aren't rich, and most of us think that the richest people made their wealth on the backs of us workers. How come by the end of life, we've worked 20-40 years and have so little to show for it? How come by the end of life, the rich have so much and can just pass it off to their shit kids who've done nothing? I think we're all a bit inherently communistic. I think also though, because of dictators and totalitarians, we've painted communism a political evil, even though it's an economic theory. The opposite of Communist isn't Liberal or Conservative or Libertarian or anything, it's Capitalist. But in the USA, we only want our sports to be Marxist, never our economic policy. I knew as a young teen, my outlook on the world would always be shown through a red prism. (Sure, I spent about seven, eight years in hardline conservative wilderness, but I broke free and quickly reverted.) Finding your political voice takes a long time for many people. Oftentimes, we never even find our own, we just regurgitate our parents who regurgitate their parents. Or if we're black, Jewish, or some kind of minority, we just say fuck it, I'm Democrat. We take the easy way out. Tell me what you think I should believe, and dammit I will. I can't do that, and apparently 11, 12 year old me knew that even then. To this day, I believe in Marxist ideology, and probably would be considered revolutionary Marxist. I'm fine with that. Communism, people. It's not a dirty word.
3. Finding Christianity and then rejecting Christianity. I have a Christian grandmother. My mom grew up in church. My dad grew up in church. I was baptised. Then it kinda stopped. I went to church anytime I visited my grandmother. I always hated it. Two hours of mind-numbing chatter, but I liked going with her because it made her happy. But outside of that, no Christmas, Palm Sundays, Good Fridays, Easters, none of that. I knew God, I understood that Jesus died on a cross, I knew there was a heaven, I knew the Bible existed, and that sums up much of what I knew until high school.
When I left Princeton and moved to DC, my dad wanted me to avoid the pitfalls of public education in the District and enrolled me in a school near his job at the time. It was a Seventh-day Adventist school. I had never even heard of such a thing. I thought there were Baptists, Methodists, and then snake charmers who spoke in tongues. Seventh-day Adventist?! What?! So I go to this school as the king of heathens, foul-mouthed, ignorant to salvation (be it by faith or even by works), and couldn't understand why they went to church on Saturday. I was at this school for my sophomore through senior years, and it literally took until my senior year to find Christianity. It was a perfect storm of bullshit, none that I really need to get into, but they got me. I did all that accepting of the Christ in my heart, I studied the Bible daily, I watched Christian television, I warred with myself numerous times over some of my friends and some of the music I would listen to, I must have been a ball. Jesus was my dog. I fucked with Jesus. I even converted to Catholicism. Why Catholic though and not Seventh-day Adventist? I loved the veneration of Mary and the mysticism and ritual of the faith. (Notice, nothing about Jesus there.) I even acquired Catholic guilt and excelled at it. Every confession and reconciliation I've gone to began with bursting into tears and ending with rose coloured glasses and feeling great and new. I'll give it to you, Christians, the mind-altering effects are pretty great. Then, I woke up.
Logically, Christianity makes no fucking sense. It's riddled with bad writing, incoherence, plagiarism, misogyny, hatred, and impossibilities. And one thing I always thought was curious is Christians can't believe that people during the time of Jesus couldn't believe he was the Christ. Really? So what if I came up to you and said, "Hey, I'm king of Jews. I'm the son of God. Follow me. Throw all your shit away, roll witcha boy and bask in eternal life and all kinds of splendid shit." Who'd ever believe that? Exactly. Plus, coming from the African perspective, our people have too much faith in a religion that was beaten into them to keep them subdued and teach them not to examine nor question. That alone is detrimental to everything a person should be, especially us minorities. And ladies, try telling your man you're pregnant but you didn't have sex and see how far that gets you.
Look, if you're into that stuff, Christianity, Islam, Judaism, whatever, fine. Whatever works for you. But seriously, keep it to yourself. I'm not gonna come to you talking about all the positive benefits of Obatala, so kindly, keep your messianic stuff to thyself. A thinking person, an intellectual, a truly intelligent person cannot be deep into organised religion, especially of the Western variety. It's just too watery for their oily brain.
Oh and you won't believe how great you'll feel when you strip yourself of another's impositions. The guilt disappears, the hypocrisy evapourates, and you'll feel like a new person. Probably like what baptism is supposed to feel like.
2. Marriage. I had quite a few relatives who thought once I had a wife, a kid, a family life, I'd mellow out, be less cold, less bitter, more endearing. PROVED YOU MOTHERFUCKERS WRONG AS HELL! Oh yeah! Okay, sure, most people wouldn't celebrate that, but I embrace my asshole nature. Part of my charm is my facade of bitterness. Have I mellowed out at all? Nah, not really, but when you have a wife and a kid, other people's shit just piss you off less. Or maybe I just tell my wife how pissed off the world makes me. Either way, I'm not mellow or mild-mannered. I'm the kind of parent who attacks things logically with the kid but also gives her space to foster her own independence. I'm the kind of husband who nags about putting things in the dishwasher correctly, but also would do just about anything for her. Sure, I'm still trying to get a little farther out of that only-child-so-naturally-I'm-inherently-selfish shell, so that that's one thing marriage is slowly teaching me. Making decisions that affect other people? Yep, I have to do a lot of that now. You can't do things at a whim any more. Just everything changes. I remember when we got married, we both said nothing's different. That's bullshit. Everything's different. No one can just give up, throw in the towel, say this shit is for the birds and bounce. You have to have discussions about schooling or discipline. Your life becomes incredibly routine and you're always trying to just throw in a touch of paprika or any spice that would perk the senses. Don't get me wrong, it's not bad. I love it. But it's definitely life-altering. Oh, and your single friends? They all become inside jokes with their, "Why can't I just find a mate?" or "I love my bf/gf" and then once it's over, "I'm independent! I don't need anyone in my life!", and then two months later it's gone full circle back to "Why can't I just find a mate?" So I guess marriage changed me by making me at least somewhat normal. I live my life and create my worldview to be so polar, to be such an extremity, my married life is one of the few normal things I have. It's so normal that I even sound like a television sitcom husband with the, "Ugh, why did we get married?" or complaining to my male friends, "Ugh, the damn wife, I tell ya..." but really, that's a lot of what I love about it. I get to be just a guy for a change. No crusade to fight, no stance to take, just a guy, who's married, who publicly dislikes his wife but publicly loves the shit out of her. Ah, and the kid too, I guess. Those bastards. Hate em. (See, I just did it again!)
1. Going to FAMU. Without a doubt, bar none, FAMU changed me. I mean, it gave me the friends I have now, my ideology, it's why I'm still in Florida, it's got its tentacles on a lot of things.
Prior to college, I've always been an outsider. Sure, I had friends, and often they were some of the more popular or most popular people in school. How I managed that? No clue. I was skinny, lanky, and a geek. I knew too much about history, too much about geography, I loved to read, and was a hockey fiend. Although doing simple math, my racial makeup is overwhelmingly black, I was never quite black enough for my black friends a lot of the time, and yet I was way too black for my white friends. This is the case especially in New Jersey. I had the notion of being black through the self-destructive black prism; Southpole, Timberland boots, and First Down jackets made you black. Smoking Black-and-Mild made you black. Knowing where Nepal was and what their flag looked like? That shit definitely wasn't black. Being able to name every state capital and knowing the only unicameral state legislature in the USA was as far from being black as Engelbert Humperdink.
Add all of this to the unspoken notion of dark skin isn't a good thing. I spent many a summer as any child would before video games took over the earth. I played outside. It became normal to come in the house though and hear, "Damn boy, you're black!" Now, no, that's not saying hey, don't get dark out there, but it's also saying, hey don't get dark out there. It got to the point where eventually, I wore my blackness like Hester Prynne wore her A. See, that analogy there, that was totally not what I thought was black. But seriously, I eventually got to the point, and I'm still there, of where I need the sun to go down or I need sleeves or I'll plot my outings based on shade to avoid the melanin bursting capabilities of the sun.
As far as black history went, I only knew the names textbooks always tell you. I was so bad, I didn't want to be black. I would wonder why my race had to define me. Why do I have to be African-American too? I'm not from Africa, I was born in Pittsburgh. How the hell do you think I got into NASCAR and hockey to begin with? Racial and cultural hatred is the worst feeling you can impose upon yourself mentally. You will always feel greatly inferior. I had absolutely no sense of appreciation for what it means to be black. I even thought if you were French or Brasilian, you weren't black, you were just dark. A lot of our people still think that though, so. I even had the dream of being the black conservative who could ascend any ladder politically. So when you want to know how I spent seven years in the Republican Party, there it is. I wanted to be a token nigger. I was going to marry a white girl too. A black man of some position couldn't have a sista. Plus, I'm light, if I married white and had kids, my kids would be even lighter! Self-hatred dude. Shit's real.
FAMU, and by extension but much greater importance, my circle of friends, helped me decolonise. People like to quote Redemption Song, "Emancipate yourself from mental slavery/None but ourselves can free our minds." Robert was right, but he got it from Marcus, and Marcus was definitely right.
I had no intentions on going to an HBCU, but due to some intervening and other things, I wound up at FAMU, and had applied to other HBCUs including Fayetteville State, NCCU, and Winston-Salem. If there's anyone who believes that black colleges have no purpose today, I'm living proof otherwise.
Today, I'm proud to say I'm black, that I'm African, I'm a child of the diaspora, that I know where I come from and what my people have done and continue to do. This is not to say I'm uber-Afrocentric or reject all things non-African. It's not that at all, in fact, a lot of it makes me more accepting. Mix together being pan-African and revolutionary Marxist, you suddenly get a person who wants to tackle western ideology for the benefit of all oppressed peoples. Look at the Panthers. Their ten point programme also included Latinos regardless of race and nationality as well as Asians.
So thanks FAMU. And thanks to the good people I've met through being a Rattler. I learned a lot in the classroom, but I learned even more outside of it.
Either way, let's get on with this miserable show. I did some thinking about four of the most pivotal moments in my life that have made me the cantankerous asshole I am today. Some of it may have made me cold and distant, some of it idealistic and intellectual. Whatever the case, they've definitely changed me enough to the point where I can pinpoint it. Here we go.
4. Reading the Communist Manifesto for the first time. I discovered the Marx and Engels book somewhere in the seventh grade. I was living in Princeton and maybe heard my grandmother mention it or perhaps even a teacher. I can definitely remember going to the public library and checking it out. My initial thought was how can something so tiny be so immense to the world of political and economic thought? If you've never seen it, it's more like a pamphlet than an epic tome. Regardless, I read the book in maybe three days. In so few pages, it packs a lot of ideology. Obviously I didn't understand all of it, and I've read it maybe ten to twelve times since and still don't totally understand all of it. It's one of the most complex works I've ever read. One thing it did do though was make me Marxist. It's hard not to really be Marxist though, I feel. Most of us aren't rich, and most of us think that the richest people made their wealth on the backs of us workers. How come by the end of life, we've worked 20-40 years and have so little to show for it? How come by the end of life, the rich have so much and can just pass it off to their shit kids who've done nothing? I think we're all a bit inherently communistic. I think also though, because of dictators and totalitarians, we've painted communism a political evil, even though it's an economic theory. The opposite of Communist isn't Liberal or Conservative or Libertarian or anything, it's Capitalist. But in the USA, we only want our sports to be Marxist, never our economic policy. I knew as a young teen, my outlook on the world would always be shown through a red prism. (Sure, I spent about seven, eight years in hardline conservative wilderness, but I broke free and quickly reverted.) Finding your political voice takes a long time for many people. Oftentimes, we never even find our own, we just regurgitate our parents who regurgitate their parents. Or if we're black, Jewish, or some kind of minority, we just say fuck it, I'm Democrat. We take the easy way out. Tell me what you think I should believe, and dammit I will. I can't do that, and apparently 11, 12 year old me knew that even then. To this day, I believe in Marxist ideology, and probably would be considered revolutionary Marxist. I'm fine with that. Communism, people. It's not a dirty word.
3. Finding Christianity and then rejecting Christianity. I have a Christian grandmother. My mom grew up in church. My dad grew up in church. I was baptised. Then it kinda stopped. I went to church anytime I visited my grandmother. I always hated it. Two hours of mind-numbing chatter, but I liked going with her because it made her happy. But outside of that, no Christmas, Palm Sundays, Good Fridays, Easters, none of that. I knew God, I understood that Jesus died on a cross, I knew there was a heaven, I knew the Bible existed, and that sums up much of what I knew until high school.
When I left Princeton and moved to DC, my dad wanted me to avoid the pitfalls of public education in the District and enrolled me in a school near his job at the time. It was a Seventh-day Adventist school. I had never even heard of such a thing. I thought there were Baptists, Methodists, and then snake charmers who spoke in tongues. Seventh-day Adventist?! What?! So I go to this school as the king of heathens, foul-mouthed, ignorant to salvation (be it by faith or even by works), and couldn't understand why they went to church on Saturday. I was at this school for my sophomore through senior years, and it literally took until my senior year to find Christianity. It was a perfect storm of bullshit, none that I really need to get into, but they got me. I did all that accepting of the Christ in my heart, I studied the Bible daily, I watched Christian television, I warred with myself numerous times over some of my friends and some of the music I would listen to, I must have been a ball. Jesus was my dog. I fucked with Jesus. I even converted to Catholicism. Why Catholic though and not Seventh-day Adventist? I loved the veneration of Mary and the mysticism and ritual of the faith. (Notice, nothing about Jesus there.) I even acquired Catholic guilt and excelled at it. Every confession and reconciliation I've gone to began with bursting into tears and ending with rose coloured glasses and feeling great and new. I'll give it to you, Christians, the mind-altering effects are pretty great. Then, I woke up.
Logically, Christianity makes no fucking sense. It's riddled with bad writing, incoherence, plagiarism, misogyny, hatred, and impossibilities. And one thing I always thought was curious is Christians can't believe that people during the time of Jesus couldn't believe he was the Christ. Really? So what if I came up to you and said, "Hey, I'm king of Jews. I'm the son of God. Follow me. Throw all your shit away, roll witcha boy and bask in eternal life and all kinds of splendid shit." Who'd ever believe that? Exactly. Plus, coming from the African perspective, our people have too much faith in a religion that was beaten into them to keep them subdued and teach them not to examine nor question. That alone is detrimental to everything a person should be, especially us minorities. And ladies, try telling your man you're pregnant but you didn't have sex and see how far that gets you.
Look, if you're into that stuff, Christianity, Islam, Judaism, whatever, fine. Whatever works for you. But seriously, keep it to yourself. I'm not gonna come to you talking about all the positive benefits of Obatala, so kindly, keep your messianic stuff to thyself. A thinking person, an intellectual, a truly intelligent person cannot be deep into organised religion, especially of the Western variety. It's just too watery for their oily brain.
Oh and you won't believe how great you'll feel when you strip yourself of another's impositions. The guilt disappears, the hypocrisy evapourates, and you'll feel like a new person. Probably like what baptism is supposed to feel like.
2. Marriage. I had quite a few relatives who thought once I had a wife, a kid, a family life, I'd mellow out, be less cold, less bitter, more endearing. PROVED YOU MOTHERFUCKERS WRONG AS HELL! Oh yeah! Okay, sure, most people wouldn't celebrate that, but I embrace my asshole nature. Part of my charm is my facade of bitterness. Have I mellowed out at all? Nah, not really, but when you have a wife and a kid, other people's shit just piss you off less. Or maybe I just tell my wife how pissed off the world makes me. Either way, I'm not mellow or mild-mannered. I'm the kind of parent who attacks things logically with the kid but also gives her space to foster her own independence. I'm the kind of husband who nags about putting things in the dishwasher correctly, but also would do just about anything for her. Sure, I'm still trying to get a little farther out of that only-child-so-naturally-I'm-inherently-selfish shell, so that that's one thing marriage is slowly teaching me. Making decisions that affect other people? Yep, I have to do a lot of that now. You can't do things at a whim any more. Just everything changes. I remember when we got married, we both said nothing's different. That's bullshit. Everything's different. No one can just give up, throw in the towel, say this shit is for the birds and bounce. You have to have discussions about schooling or discipline. Your life becomes incredibly routine and you're always trying to just throw in a touch of paprika or any spice that would perk the senses. Don't get me wrong, it's not bad. I love it. But it's definitely life-altering. Oh, and your single friends? They all become inside jokes with their, "Why can't I just find a mate?" or "I love my bf/gf" and then once it's over, "I'm independent! I don't need anyone in my life!", and then two months later it's gone full circle back to "Why can't I just find a mate?" So I guess marriage changed me by making me at least somewhat normal. I live my life and create my worldview to be so polar, to be such an extremity, my married life is one of the few normal things I have. It's so normal that I even sound like a television sitcom husband with the, "Ugh, why did we get married?" or complaining to my male friends, "Ugh, the damn wife, I tell ya..." but really, that's a lot of what I love about it. I get to be just a guy for a change. No crusade to fight, no stance to take, just a guy, who's married, who publicly dislikes his wife but publicly loves the shit out of her. Ah, and the kid too, I guess. Those bastards. Hate em. (See, I just did it again!)
1. Going to FAMU. Without a doubt, bar none, FAMU changed me. I mean, it gave me the friends I have now, my ideology, it's why I'm still in Florida, it's got its tentacles on a lot of things.
Prior to college, I've always been an outsider. Sure, I had friends, and often they were some of the more popular or most popular people in school. How I managed that? No clue. I was skinny, lanky, and a geek. I knew too much about history, too much about geography, I loved to read, and was a hockey fiend. Although doing simple math, my racial makeup is overwhelmingly black, I was never quite black enough for my black friends a lot of the time, and yet I was way too black for my white friends. This is the case especially in New Jersey. I had the notion of being black through the self-destructive black prism; Southpole, Timberland boots, and First Down jackets made you black. Smoking Black-and-Mild made you black. Knowing where Nepal was and what their flag looked like? That shit definitely wasn't black. Being able to name every state capital and knowing the only unicameral state legislature in the USA was as far from being black as Engelbert Humperdink.
Add all of this to the unspoken notion of dark skin isn't a good thing. I spent many a summer as any child would before video games took over the earth. I played outside. It became normal to come in the house though and hear, "Damn boy, you're black!" Now, no, that's not saying hey, don't get dark out there, but it's also saying, hey don't get dark out there. It got to the point where eventually, I wore my blackness like Hester Prynne wore her A. See, that analogy there, that was totally not what I thought was black. But seriously, I eventually got to the point, and I'm still there, of where I need the sun to go down or I need sleeves or I'll plot my outings based on shade to avoid the melanin bursting capabilities of the sun.
As far as black history went, I only knew the names textbooks always tell you. I was so bad, I didn't want to be black. I would wonder why my race had to define me. Why do I have to be African-American too? I'm not from Africa, I was born in Pittsburgh. How the hell do you think I got into NASCAR and hockey to begin with? Racial and cultural hatred is the worst feeling you can impose upon yourself mentally. You will always feel greatly inferior. I had absolutely no sense of appreciation for what it means to be black. I even thought if you were French or Brasilian, you weren't black, you were just dark. A lot of our people still think that though, so. I even had the dream of being the black conservative who could ascend any ladder politically. So when you want to know how I spent seven years in the Republican Party, there it is. I wanted to be a token nigger. I was going to marry a white girl too. A black man of some position couldn't have a sista. Plus, I'm light, if I married white and had kids, my kids would be even lighter! Self-hatred dude. Shit's real.
FAMU, and by extension but much greater importance, my circle of friends, helped me decolonise. People like to quote Redemption Song, "Emancipate yourself from mental slavery/None but ourselves can free our minds." Robert was right, but he got it from Marcus, and Marcus was definitely right.
I had no intentions on going to an HBCU, but due to some intervening and other things, I wound up at FAMU, and had applied to other HBCUs including Fayetteville State, NCCU, and Winston-Salem. If there's anyone who believes that black colleges have no purpose today, I'm living proof otherwise.
Today, I'm proud to say I'm black, that I'm African, I'm a child of the diaspora, that I know where I come from and what my people have done and continue to do. This is not to say I'm uber-Afrocentric or reject all things non-African. It's not that at all, in fact, a lot of it makes me more accepting. Mix together being pan-African and revolutionary Marxist, you suddenly get a person who wants to tackle western ideology for the benefit of all oppressed peoples. Look at the Panthers. Their ten point programme also included Latinos regardless of race and nationality as well as Asians.
So thanks FAMU. And thanks to the good people I've met through being a Rattler. I learned a lot in the classroom, but I learned even more outside of it.
Friday, March 2, 2012
2.11 -- Women Who Rock
Thankfully, season two is coming to a close. After this, only one more fucking list and we can call it a wrap! But until then, we've got work to do.
The genesis to this list came while I was on the treadmill and rather than listening to podcasts, like I usually do, I put on a playlist. Somewhere near the end of my time, a song came on and I thought to myself, "This woman doesn't get the credit she deserves." Then I started thinking out further and extrapolating it to women in all of music. Music as a whole is a male-dominated arena. It takes a lot for a girl to break out if she's not either singing beautifully or super hot and can be sexualised. There's a reason why there's way more Taylor Swifts and Rihannas rather than women like Martha Wash.
I challenge you to look at any list from Rolling Stone, Spin, the Source, whomever, and when it cites their top artists and bands, you can probably count the number of women in the top 50 on two hands, top 20 on one hand, top ten on no hands. Now, I haven't checked this, but I'm going on simply gut. When we talk about favourite MCs, no one ever says MC Lyte or Queen Latifah. When we think of top bands in rock, no one ever says Hole or Bratmobile. Even when talking jazz, we go through a lot of folks before we get to Ella Fitzgerald and her peers.
So with all of this swirling in my mind, and with it being the second day of women's history month, I offer you my top ten women who just kick ass, have musical chops that can rival any man, and deserve to be mentioned in every conversation.
Honourable mentions: Pat Benetar (Love is a battlefield, but so is this list and she couldn't make it); Nina Simone; Nitty Scott, MC (She's too young to the scene, but with time, I feel she could be the next MC Lyte and beyond); Millie Jackson (Not a fan of her music so much, but from older folks I know, she could put on a fucking show); and Deborah Harry (I love Blondie, I think they made good music, but this was the one who juuuuust missed my cut.)
Ten-- Queen Ifrica. Who?! Yeah, you've probably never heard of her, especially if you're not into roots reggae, but the Queen is heavy. Her debut album, Fyah Muma, is outstanding. Outstanding. Her songs, like most roots artists, comment on the social issues plaguing people of the Diaspora like self-hatred, physical and sexual abuse, but always makes you feel like with just an ounce of love for all of us, we can make it. Being a Rastafari and making roots, it has to be hard for woman. The names we know internationally are never women. Add on top of that how misogynistic (and I don't really want to use that word, but...) Rastafari can be sometimes, of no faults of its own but of faults of individual interpretations, it has to be even harder. Queen Ifrica, though, just keeps bringing quality music. If you're looking to hear some of her stuff, go youtube "Boxers and Stocking", "Black People", "Natty Fi Grow". Those are three of my favourites there. Oh, and "Below the Waist".
Nine-- La Lupe. This blog has given another Cubana a ton of credit for excelling in the world of salsa and Cuban music, but often forgotten, ignored, or just unknown, is La Lupe. With over 20 albums, numerous compilations, and tonnes of work with salsa legend, Tito Puente, La Lupe cannot be denied. She did salsa, she did bolero, she did Latin soul, she did guarachas. That's what we call well-versed, people. And true to her Afro-Cuban self, she was a follower of Santeria for most of her life until being "saved" later on and converting to Christianity. No, she doesn't have the hits that we know like we know for Sister Celia, but she's still got her own catalogue. "Con el Diablo en el Cuerpo", "Lo que Paso, Paso", and "La Virgen LLoraba" would be three of my favourites. Do yourself a favour and investigate into La Lupe's music.
Eight-- Wendy O. Williams. She should be higher, and if this were the purest definition of women who rock, she'd be number one. Wendy O. Williams, now that's one bad ass woman. Former lead singer of the Plasmatics, did her own thing as a solo artist too, but during the whole time, she did what she wanted. She's destroyed cars on stage, wielded a chain saw, been arrested for simulating sex on stage, made an appearance in an adult movie in a role where she shot ping-pong balls out of her vagina, like what's not to like? She even accused, and I'm just finding this out, Mrs. Fields of being on par with heroin pushers for all the white, processed sugar she sells to the public. "The Damned", "Sex Junkie", and "Squirm" are my suggestions for you to look up.
Seven-- Sleater-Kinney and Bikini Kill (tie). Riot Grrrl at its finest. I had to tie these two. I know, Sleater-Kinney cite Bikini Kill as a heavy influence, but to me, these two (along with Heavens to Betsy) made Riot Grrrl a viable subgenre in the post-punk world. Bikini Kill makes this list for their debut album, "Pussy Whipped" and it features "Rebel Girl", which I'd have to think is their most-known record (although "Blood One" is my favourite track on the album). They went on to make a few more albums before disbanding, and sure they were good to pretty good, but "Pussy Whipped" is like the textbook to making a Riot Grrrl album.
Sleater-Kinney. Wow, picking my favourite SK album isn't easy. I could go with Dig Me Out or All Hands on the Bad One. Either one is fantastic, but probably Dig Me Out is their best work, featuring songs like "Heart Factory", "Buy Her Candy", and title track "Dig Me Out". Just 35 minutes of good music done right. I'm not sure what's happened to Riot Grrrl, but the 90s was generous to these all-female bands, and the music still holds up. Luckily, we can catch former SK guitarist, Carrie Brownstein, on Portlandia.
Six-- Lady Saw. To me, there is no other woman worth mentioning in dancehall. Don't even give me Patra. I don't want to hear it. Lady Saw is the end-all, be-all for women in dancehall. And really, she's better than 85 percent of the men in the genre too. She's the queen of slackness. Lady Saw makes her pussy sound like it's ambrosia, straight nectar of the gods kinda shit. What's not to love about that? Go listen to "If Him Lef" and tell me you're not thinking, "Damn..." when it gets to the guy complaining that she's so tight, she can't be 22, she has to be 13. If you think Lil' Kim is explicit and raunchy, then you, my friend, have never heard a Lady Saw record in your life. The only thing Saw rides better than dick has to be riddims. Speaking of her and dick, "Life Without Dick", quality. You've not lived until you've heard a woman croon over her appreciation for the male member. It's not all dick, pussy, and intercourse though. Lady Saw can make a song for her mother, for women as a whole, can be positive... but dancehall is competitive and slackness sells. So I stick more to songs like "No Long Talking".
Five-- Ivy Queen. When it comes to reggaeton, there's two artists I'll listen to anytime: Tego Calderon and Ivy Queen. My wife, she gets a little jealous when I stop the radio on an Ivy Queen song. It's her voice. She's got that husky voice, like Kathleen Turner, just without the rasp. Or maybe more like Penelope Menchaca. Either way, it's her voice. She could call me a punk ass bitch who likes to let donkeys fuck me in my ass, but in her voice, it's gonna be complimentary. When I bought her compilation, "Flashback", it stayed in rotation for months. When I bought "Sentimientos", "Real", and "Diva", stayed in heavy rotation. "Drama Queen" too, heavy rotation. Of course she often gets the best producers who give her the best beats, but she takes them and roasts them. And where most men are just going around talking about their penises, how they're slaying hoes left and right, how they'll blast their enemy, Ivy Queen comes off multifaceted. Love, culture, family, and yes, catfights too, she shows much more dexterity with topics. Plus, the most phenomenal thing about Ivy Queen to me is how she could take Selena's "Si Una Vez" and turn it into a viable reggaeton track, turn into a song that you can call both Selena's and her own as well. That's hard to do. And her style, well, it's not one you see every day anymore. And sure, many will say she looks like a man, and maybe she does, but I tell you what, she's better than any reggaetonero you can name.
Four-- Madonna. Stage presence, trendsetter, multiple time reinventor of self, actress (eh, kinda), published author (eh, kinda), documentarian (eh, kinda), and without a doubt, one of my most favourite music acts ever. I loved her as a kid, I love her today, although this new single is dreadful. Madonna is timeless. She should be higher, but the competition is steep. Though her legacy will never be equaled nor forgotten, I couldn't get her to crack my top three. And a lot of it has to do with albums like Bedtime Stories and Hard Candy. I just could never get into either much. Madonna. If I could masturbate as an eight year old, I would have to her many times. Every video she did would get my blood flowing. Sure, she's not a fantastic singer, in fact singing is her only weak point. However, her music library is tops. When you have three or four official greatest hits albums, you know you've got a lot of hits. Call her a slut, call her a whore, call her old, call her manly, call her stubborn, call her whatever, she couldn't give a shit. She just keeps coming with more projects and more shows, and people churn out in droves. Her career is spanning four decades now while still releasing new music. There's not many people you can say that about, not man nor woman. For all the kiddies who think Lady Gaga is special, too bad you missed the 80s. And even in her fifties, I'd still fuck the shit out of her. While listening to "True Blue". Oh yeah. Madonna, every little thing that you say or do, I'm hung up, I'm hung up on you.
Three-- M.I.A. All you Johnny-Come-Lately folks who only learned of Maya after "Paper Planes" or awful "Swagger Like Us", fall to the side. If you were there when "Arular" came out, then join me. When I first saw "Galang" on whatever MTV was doing with its special college network, I was sold. Bought the album a few weeks after and was hooked. Between "Bucky Done Gun" and "URAQT", which features goddamned Sanford and Son theme, I was bouncing off the walls. In the midst of blowing up all over the place with the success of second album, "Kala", I think people forget or never knew how good "Arular" is. It's definitely the most revolutionary of her albums, and that's probably what gets my attention. "Kala" is not to be shitted on though. I mean, it put me on African Boy, for god's sake! Plus, "20 Dollar", how fucking great is that song?! "MAYA" is good, I want to make it great, but I can't, I can only make it good. But through it all, she's remained true to herself. She's always made music that you can dance to, that you can feel, but always keep a conscious message throughout. She's no pushover, people. She's not a flash in the pan like Kesha or whoever the hell Eva Simons is. Those people have no talent and cannot write a song if their lives were on the line. M.I.A., please don't overexpose yourself though, baby girl. I mean, after all, you are on that god awful Madonna single.
Two-- Sheila E. The glamourous Sheila E. When your dad is Pete Escovedo and your godfather is Tito Puente, not only are you gonna rock, you're gonna be one BAD ASS percussionist. Sheila E. is indeed a bad ass percussionist. Quickly, name the female percussionists you know... Done? Yeah, exactly. If any instrument was an extension of the penis, you'd feel it's the drum. You want the big conga, you want the big bass drum, you want to have the 10 minute solo at a concert, you are the backbone, blah, blah, blah. Well, if I'm right on that feeling, then Sheila E has the biggest dick in music. Fuck all the shit about dating Prince or band leader on the Magic Hour, this woman rocks and her albums speak for themselves. She's more than just "The Glamorous Life". Unfortunately, that's like the only Sheila E track most people know or ever heard. The woman her first four albums chart! That's more than just one song. But the sexiest thing about her is not her looks, or the songs, it's her live shows. She can literally play the fuck out of any piece of percussion you put in front of her, and can do it for jazz, Latin jazz, hip-hop, R&B, whatever. And she'll move from instrument to instrument and just keep it flowing. That's showmanship, that's what being a bad ass rocker is all about. I can guarantee your favourite drummer can't do that, even if he had 20 years to prepare. Sheila E., true legendary shit.
ONE-- Missy Elliott. I surprised myself with this one. She was the fourth woman I thought about, and when it came time to numbering them, she was the only one in my mind I felt was definitely top two. She's even better than that though. She's THE woman who knows how to rock. She can rap, she can sing a little bit, she can dance her ass off, she can produce. Yes. That's the clinching argument there. Production. I only know of one other female producer in all of rap and hip-hop and she's in a little known group that most people probably could care less about. Jay-Z lied. Missy invented swag. And most importantly, she did as a fat, black woman. When she hit the scene nationwide, she would have been better for the role of "Mammy" than hip-hop superstardom. And not only was she fat, she was in a big ass, outdoor Hefty bag! And through all of that, she was still bad ass. She drops a ton of weight and still keeps it rocking by not losing the curves and essence of a full figure. Seriously people, the woman is fresh. Like, really, I don't know what to say about Missy because I know most of my 10 readers know her and are well-versed in her stuff probably. But if you don't think she's the pinnacle of women in hip-hop and rap, then you're an idiot. And if you do think she is, well then, isn't that alone enough to be number one on the list?
The genesis to this list came while I was on the treadmill and rather than listening to podcasts, like I usually do, I put on a playlist. Somewhere near the end of my time, a song came on and I thought to myself, "This woman doesn't get the credit she deserves." Then I started thinking out further and extrapolating it to women in all of music. Music as a whole is a male-dominated arena. It takes a lot for a girl to break out if she's not either singing beautifully or super hot and can be sexualised. There's a reason why there's way more Taylor Swifts and Rihannas rather than women like Martha Wash.
I challenge you to look at any list from Rolling Stone, Spin, the Source, whomever, and when it cites their top artists and bands, you can probably count the number of women in the top 50 on two hands, top 20 on one hand, top ten on no hands. Now, I haven't checked this, but I'm going on simply gut. When we talk about favourite MCs, no one ever says MC Lyte or Queen Latifah. When we think of top bands in rock, no one ever says Hole or Bratmobile. Even when talking jazz, we go through a lot of folks before we get to Ella Fitzgerald and her peers.
So with all of this swirling in my mind, and with it being the second day of women's history month, I offer you my top ten women who just kick ass, have musical chops that can rival any man, and deserve to be mentioned in every conversation.
Honourable mentions: Pat Benetar (Love is a battlefield, but so is this list and she couldn't make it); Nina Simone; Nitty Scott, MC (She's too young to the scene, but with time, I feel she could be the next MC Lyte and beyond); Millie Jackson (Not a fan of her music so much, but from older folks I know, she could put on a fucking show); and Deborah Harry (I love Blondie, I think they made good music, but this was the one who juuuuust missed my cut.)
Ten-- Queen Ifrica. Who?! Yeah, you've probably never heard of her, especially if you're not into roots reggae, but the Queen is heavy. Her debut album, Fyah Muma, is outstanding. Outstanding. Her songs, like most roots artists, comment on the social issues plaguing people of the Diaspora like self-hatred, physical and sexual abuse, but always makes you feel like with just an ounce of love for all of us, we can make it. Being a Rastafari and making roots, it has to be hard for woman. The names we know internationally are never women. Add on top of that how misogynistic (and I don't really want to use that word, but...) Rastafari can be sometimes, of no faults of its own but of faults of individual interpretations, it has to be even harder. Queen Ifrica, though, just keeps bringing quality music. If you're looking to hear some of her stuff, go youtube "Boxers and Stocking", "Black People", "Natty Fi Grow". Those are three of my favourites there. Oh, and "Below the Waist".
Nine-- La Lupe. This blog has given another Cubana a ton of credit for excelling in the world of salsa and Cuban music, but often forgotten, ignored, or just unknown, is La Lupe. With over 20 albums, numerous compilations, and tonnes of work with salsa legend, Tito Puente, La Lupe cannot be denied. She did salsa, she did bolero, she did Latin soul, she did guarachas. That's what we call well-versed, people. And true to her Afro-Cuban self, she was a follower of Santeria for most of her life until being "saved" later on and converting to Christianity. No, she doesn't have the hits that we know like we know for Sister Celia, but she's still got her own catalogue. "Con el Diablo en el Cuerpo", "Lo que Paso, Paso", and "La Virgen LLoraba" would be three of my favourites. Do yourself a favour and investigate into La Lupe's music.
Eight-- Wendy O. Williams. She should be higher, and if this were the purest definition of women who rock, she'd be number one. Wendy O. Williams, now that's one bad ass woman. Former lead singer of the Plasmatics, did her own thing as a solo artist too, but during the whole time, she did what she wanted. She's destroyed cars on stage, wielded a chain saw, been arrested for simulating sex on stage, made an appearance in an adult movie in a role where she shot ping-pong balls out of her vagina, like what's not to like? She even accused, and I'm just finding this out, Mrs. Fields of being on par with heroin pushers for all the white, processed sugar she sells to the public. "The Damned", "Sex Junkie", and "Squirm" are my suggestions for you to look up.
Seven-- Sleater-Kinney and Bikini Kill (tie). Riot Grrrl at its finest. I had to tie these two. I know, Sleater-Kinney cite Bikini Kill as a heavy influence, but to me, these two (along with Heavens to Betsy) made Riot Grrrl a viable subgenre in the post-punk world. Bikini Kill makes this list for their debut album, "Pussy Whipped" and it features "Rebel Girl", which I'd have to think is their most-known record (although "Blood One" is my favourite track on the album). They went on to make a few more albums before disbanding, and sure they were good to pretty good, but "Pussy Whipped" is like the textbook to making a Riot Grrrl album.
Sleater-Kinney. Wow, picking my favourite SK album isn't easy. I could go with Dig Me Out or All Hands on the Bad One. Either one is fantastic, but probably Dig Me Out is their best work, featuring songs like "Heart Factory", "Buy Her Candy", and title track "Dig Me Out". Just 35 minutes of good music done right. I'm not sure what's happened to Riot Grrrl, but the 90s was generous to these all-female bands, and the music still holds up. Luckily, we can catch former SK guitarist, Carrie Brownstein, on Portlandia.
Six-- Lady Saw. To me, there is no other woman worth mentioning in dancehall. Don't even give me Patra. I don't want to hear it. Lady Saw is the end-all, be-all for women in dancehall. And really, she's better than 85 percent of the men in the genre too. She's the queen of slackness. Lady Saw makes her pussy sound like it's ambrosia, straight nectar of the gods kinda shit. What's not to love about that? Go listen to "If Him Lef" and tell me you're not thinking, "Damn..." when it gets to the guy complaining that she's so tight, she can't be 22, she has to be 13. If you think Lil' Kim is explicit and raunchy, then you, my friend, have never heard a Lady Saw record in your life. The only thing Saw rides better than dick has to be riddims. Speaking of her and dick, "Life Without Dick", quality. You've not lived until you've heard a woman croon over her appreciation for the male member. It's not all dick, pussy, and intercourse though. Lady Saw can make a song for her mother, for women as a whole, can be positive... but dancehall is competitive and slackness sells. So I stick more to songs like "No Long Talking".
Five-- Ivy Queen. When it comes to reggaeton, there's two artists I'll listen to anytime: Tego Calderon and Ivy Queen. My wife, she gets a little jealous when I stop the radio on an Ivy Queen song. It's her voice. She's got that husky voice, like Kathleen Turner, just without the rasp. Or maybe more like Penelope Menchaca. Either way, it's her voice. She could call me a punk ass bitch who likes to let donkeys fuck me in my ass, but in her voice, it's gonna be complimentary. When I bought her compilation, "Flashback", it stayed in rotation for months. When I bought "Sentimientos", "Real", and "Diva", stayed in heavy rotation. "Drama Queen" too, heavy rotation. Of course she often gets the best producers who give her the best beats, but she takes them and roasts them. And where most men are just going around talking about their penises, how they're slaying hoes left and right, how they'll blast their enemy, Ivy Queen comes off multifaceted. Love, culture, family, and yes, catfights too, she shows much more dexterity with topics. Plus, the most phenomenal thing about Ivy Queen to me is how she could take Selena's "Si Una Vez" and turn it into a viable reggaeton track, turn into a song that you can call both Selena's and her own as well. That's hard to do. And her style, well, it's not one you see every day anymore. And sure, many will say she looks like a man, and maybe she does, but I tell you what, she's better than any reggaetonero you can name.
Four-- Madonna. Stage presence, trendsetter, multiple time reinventor of self, actress (eh, kinda), published author (eh, kinda), documentarian (eh, kinda), and without a doubt, one of my most favourite music acts ever. I loved her as a kid, I love her today, although this new single is dreadful. Madonna is timeless. She should be higher, but the competition is steep. Though her legacy will never be equaled nor forgotten, I couldn't get her to crack my top three. And a lot of it has to do with albums like Bedtime Stories and Hard Candy. I just could never get into either much. Madonna. If I could masturbate as an eight year old, I would have to her many times. Every video she did would get my blood flowing. Sure, she's not a fantastic singer, in fact singing is her only weak point. However, her music library is tops. When you have three or four official greatest hits albums, you know you've got a lot of hits. Call her a slut, call her a whore, call her old, call her manly, call her stubborn, call her whatever, she couldn't give a shit. She just keeps coming with more projects and more shows, and people churn out in droves. Her career is spanning four decades now while still releasing new music. There's not many people you can say that about, not man nor woman. For all the kiddies who think Lady Gaga is special, too bad you missed the 80s. And even in her fifties, I'd still fuck the shit out of her. While listening to "True Blue". Oh yeah. Madonna, every little thing that you say or do, I'm hung up, I'm hung up on you.
Three-- M.I.A. All you Johnny-Come-Lately folks who only learned of Maya after "Paper Planes" or awful "Swagger Like Us", fall to the side. If you were there when "Arular" came out, then join me. When I first saw "Galang" on whatever MTV was doing with its special college network, I was sold. Bought the album a few weeks after and was hooked. Between "Bucky Done Gun" and "URAQT", which features goddamned Sanford and Son theme, I was bouncing off the walls. In the midst of blowing up all over the place with the success of second album, "Kala", I think people forget or never knew how good "Arular" is. It's definitely the most revolutionary of her albums, and that's probably what gets my attention. "Kala" is not to be shitted on though. I mean, it put me on African Boy, for god's sake! Plus, "20 Dollar", how fucking great is that song?! "MAYA" is good, I want to make it great, but I can't, I can only make it good. But through it all, she's remained true to herself. She's always made music that you can dance to, that you can feel, but always keep a conscious message throughout. She's no pushover, people. She's not a flash in the pan like Kesha or whoever the hell Eva Simons is. Those people have no talent and cannot write a song if their lives were on the line. M.I.A., please don't overexpose yourself though, baby girl. I mean, after all, you are on that god awful Madonna single.
Two-- Sheila E. The glamourous Sheila E. When your dad is Pete Escovedo and your godfather is Tito Puente, not only are you gonna rock, you're gonna be one BAD ASS percussionist. Sheila E. is indeed a bad ass percussionist. Quickly, name the female percussionists you know... Done? Yeah, exactly. If any instrument was an extension of the penis, you'd feel it's the drum. You want the big conga, you want the big bass drum, you want to have the 10 minute solo at a concert, you are the backbone, blah, blah, blah. Well, if I'm right on that feeling, then Sheila E has the biggest dick in music. Fuck all the shit about dating Prince or band leader on the Magic Hour, this woman rocks and her albums speak for themselves. She's more than just "The Glamorous Life". Unfortunately, that's like the only Sheila E track most people know or ever heard. The woman her first four albums chart! That's more than just one song. But the sexiest thing about her is not her looks, or the songs, it's her live shows. She can literally play the fuck out of any piece of percussion you put in front of her, and can do it for jazz, Latin jazz, hip-hop, R&B, whatever. And she'll move from instrument to instrument and just keep it flowing. That's showmanship, that's what being a bad ass rocker is all about. I can guarantee your favourite drummer can't do that, even if he had 20 years to prepare. Sheila E., true legendary shit.
ONE-- Missy Elliott. I surprised myself with this one. She was the fourth woman I thought about, and when it came time to numbering them, she was the only one in my mind I felt was definitely top two. She's even better than that though. She's THE woman who knows how to rock. She can rap, she can sing a little bit, she can dance her ass off, she can produce. Yes. That's the clinching argument there. Production. I only know of one other female producer in all of rap and hip-hop and she's in a little known group that most people probably could care less about. Jay-Z lied. Missy invented swag. And most importantly, she did as a fat, black woman. When she hit the scene nationwide, she would have been better for the role of "Mammy" than hip-hop superstardom. And not only was she fat, she was in a big ass, outdoor Hefty bag! And through all of that, she was still bad ass. She drops a ton of weight and still keeps it rocking by not losing the curves and essence of a full figure. Seriously people, the woman is fresh. Like, really, I don't know what to say about Missy because I know most of my 10 readers know her and are well-versed in her stuff probably. But if you don't think she's the pinnacle of women in hip-hop and rap, then you're an idiot. And if you do think she is, well then, isn't that alone enough to be number one on the list?
Friday, February 24, 2012
2.10 -- Stranded on a Desert Island.
It's been a while. A long while. Sue me. I was running out of shit lists to do to get this miserable season of my shit blog done and dusted. Well I'm back. We're gonna try to keep this one short, keep it sweet, get the fuck in and then get the fuck out. This is episode 10 in a season of 12, so yay! The end is near! Thank god.
We're gonna do a timeless one. Everyone, much like the dinner question, has fielded the desert island question. Yeah, you know it. "If you were stranded on a desert isle, which five albums would you take with you?" Well that's the topic du jour, so let's get on with it.
First category: Rap and/or Hip-Hop. The nominees are: The GZA, "Liquid Swords", Mobb Deep, "The Infamous", Eric B and Rakim, "Paid in Full", and Frayser Boy, "Gone on that Bay". These artists have been mentioned in a list or two already this season, so they're all heavy hitters to me. I instinctively thought "Liquid Swords" would win, especially considering how I think it's the greatest album in rap and hip-hop. But Frayser's debut, I know almost the whole thing word for word. Then I think, well wait, what about the timelessness of "Paid in Full"? Or how about the album that changed how I listened to rap, "The Infamous"? Something about that album takes me back to a specific time and place in my life, but I still love it as much now as I did then. Winner? "The Infamous". I know. It's difficult to say since the GZA made a FLAWLESS album! How could I ever go against the best in the genre? Well, Mobb Deep gets the go-ahead for one reason. While I know a lot of the songs on the others word-for-word, line-for-line, nostalgia carries Mobb Deep's sophomore album over the finish line. Plus, it's a deserted island. Wouldn't "Survival of the Fittest" and "Temperature's Rising" be fitting songs?
Second category: Punk/Hardcore/Ska category. Sure, these genres aren't the same, but face it. They're all on the same tree. Nominees: Bad Brains, self titled debut; Minor Threat, "Complete Discography"; NOFX, "So Long and Thanks for All the Shoes"; Misfits, "Collection II"; Hatebreed, "Satisfaction Is the Death of Desire"; Fishbone, "Truth and Soul". I love all of these, but that goes without saying since they're nominees. The Misfits are my favourite band in any genre, and I love the second half of Collection II, but it's not coming with me. If I could mix Collection I and Collection II, it'd probably get the vote. NOFX's album is good, but it's too cute to be deserted with for a lengthy period of time. Hatebreed's "Satisfaction..." is probably the best in metalcore, but it's far too angry to be stranded. I'm away from society, my wife and kid, my friends, my sports, nah. I don't need more anger. Unlike Collection II from the Misfits, I believe the second half or maybe final third of Minor Threat's "Complete Discography" takes a dip. Not to say it sucks, but it leaves a little teensy bit to be desired. So the question was Bad Brains' self-titled debut or Fishbone's sophomore effort "Truth and Soul"? Winner? Bad Brains. DC guys, Rastafaris, the preeminent band in DC hardcore and hardcore as a whole, and it's got the perfect blend of great, fast-paced songs like "Sailin' On" but it knows when to calm you down with a reggae track like "I Luv I Jah". Plus, it's still the best album in the whole world of punk and its many sub-genres. And if you've never heard "The Big Takeover", the intro alone to the song is enough to win this face-off.
Third category: English band. "The Best of Joy Division", Joy Divison or "The Very Best of the Jam", the Jam. This was immediately whittled down to just two albums because I felt most of the English bands I love were either new wave or punk. Since I did a punk category, that lopped off a lot of bands and new wave may be brought up later. So the two best bands to come out of Britain to me are Joy Division and the Jam. I think Joy Division may be one of the 10-15 best bands period, while the Jam are definitely top 25. Opinion, I know, but my whole blog has to be opinionated and it has to be MY opinion. I decided to go best of for both because you want the cream of the crop when it comes to song selections. So who wins? Joy Division? The Jam? Joy Division. No knock to the Jam, but hearing "In the City" while stranded on Gilligan's Island seems like sadomasochistic behaviour. Plus, Joy Division is a top 10 band, the Jam are a top 20ish band. That's a big difference. Also, I could go the rest of my life hearing "Transmission" and "She's Lost Control" every day.
Fourth category: Genre compilation. We've got here "Forever Freestyle", "The Pulse", "Sounds of the Eighties", "The Only Doo-Wop Collection You'll Ever Need". Now "Sounds of the Eighties" is a great thousand disc compilation that I procured illegally and perfectly mixes the best new wave, punk, power ballads, hair metal, all that good shit, but face it, it's too many damn CDs. Ixnay on the Sounds. "The Pulse" and "Forever Freestyle" aren't the same, but similar maybe? One is that great Miami freestyle sound and the other is like its bastard child that became 90s house and dance. I say go with the original, "Forever Freestyle" beats out "The Pulse". So doo-wop or freestyle? This was a very difficult choice. I love doo-wop. I used to listen to AM radio with my grandmother and hear just classic doo-wop songs on the way to school, home from school, to the mall, the market, everywhere. I think those malt-shop songs are fucking classic. Freestyle, though, oh man. It's the predecessor to booty bass and 90s dance. It's got cheesy lyrics. Some of the tracks have Latin flair. Earth Angel or I Wonder If I Take You Home? A Teenager in Love or Diamond Girl? Winner? Doo-Wop. Think about it. It's a two disc collection as opposed to Forever Freestyle's one, but those doo-wop songs are TIMELESS. You can be 3, 13, 23, 33, 53, 83 and genuinely appreciate those songs. Plus, the air in the mics, the pops on the recordings, that makes you feel like it was a time where people learned how to make and produce music rather than just press buttons and loop shit.
Fifth and final category: Wild-card. This isn't genre specific or anything, it's literally any album I want to fill that fifth spot. Nominees: Selena, "Ones"; Backyard Band, "Skillet"; Buena Vista Social Club, self-titled; Cannibal Corpse, "Bloodthirst"; Luny Tunes, "Mas Flow". Because the range is so wide, it's difficult to zero in on elimination. So first, I went like this, I can only take one tropical album so do I want son y mambo or reggaeton? I went reggaeton and Mas Flow knocks out Buena Vista. Hey, sorry, but that album has some fucking hits on it. Now, only one Spanish language album, so Selena or reggaeton? Sorry Mas Flow, but it's Selena and I'd do anything for Salinas! Cannibal Corpse, a top 10 band in my eyes, it bows out for the Hatebreed reasons, it's just too angry. Although there's fantastic drumming and it's the best album of theirs with Corpsegrinder on vocals, I can't be stranded on an island and hear about axes chopping heads and people being pounded into dust. So it comes down to Selena's greatest hits or Backyard Band's magnum opus. I love you, Selena. You brought tejano to the masses, you had a great voice, and your legend is immense...but I'm a DC guy. Give me "Skillet", the best go-go album EVER. And I'm a Groovers and TCB fan overall, but that BYB album is so fucking fantastic from the first second to the last! The first three songs alone crush most go-go albums into submission and embarrassment! If you've ever wanted to get into go-go or find out what it's all about, go buy Skillet right now. Right. Now. Ahorita!
So there you have it. If ever I'm stranded on a deserted island and can take five albums with me, they'd be: Mobb Deep, "The Infamous"; Bad Brains' self-titled debut, Joy Division, "The Best of Joy Division", "The Only Doo-Wop Collection You'll Ever Need", and Backyard Band, "Skillet".
Figure out yours and let me know @CochinoChuy on twitter.
We're gonna do a timeless one. Everyone, much like the dinner question, has fielded the desert island question. Yeah, you know it. "If you were stranded on a desert isle, which five albums would you take with you?" Well that's the topic du jour, so let's get on with it.
First category: Rap and/or Hip-Hop. The nominees are: The GZA, "Liquid Swords", Mobb Deep, "The Infamous", Eric B and Rakim, "Paid in Full", and Frayser Boy, "Gone on that Bay". These artists have been mentioned in a list or two already this season, so they're all heavy hitters to me. I instinctively thought "Liquid Swords" would win, especially considering how I think it's the greatest album in rap and hip-hop. But Frayser's debut, I know almost the whole thing word for word. Then I think, well wait, what about the timelessness of "Paid in Full"? Or how about the album that changed how I listened to rap, "The Infamous"? Something about that album takes me back to a specific time and place in my life, but I still love it as much now as I did then. Winner? "The Infamous". I know. It's difficult to say since the GZA made a FLAWLESS album! How could I ever go against the best in the genre? Well, Mobb Deep gets the go-ahead for one reason. While I know a lot of the songs on the others word-for-word, line-for-line, nostalgia carries Mobb Deep's sophomore album over the finish line. Plus, it's a deserted island. Wouldn't "Survival of the Fittest" and "Temperature's Rising" be fitting songs?
Second category: Punk/Hardcore/Ska category. Sure, these genres aren't the same, but face it. They're all on the same tree. Nominees: Bad Brains, self titled debut; Minor Threat, "Complete Discography"; NOFX, "So Long and Thanks for All the Shoes"; Misfits, "Collection II"; Hatebreed, "Satisfaction Is the Death of Desire"; Fishbone, "Truth and Soul". I love all of these, but that goes without saying since they're nominees. The Misfits are my favourite band in any genre, and I love the second half of Collection II, but it's not coming with me. If I could mix Collection I and Collection II, it'd probably get the vote. NOFX's album is good, but it's too cute to be deserted with for a lengthy period of time. Hatebreed's "Satisfaction..." is probably the best in metalcore, but it's far too angry to be stranded. I'm away from society, my wife and kid, my friends, my sports, nah. I don't need more anger. Unlike Collection II from the Misfits, I believe the second half or maybe final third of Minor Threat's "Complete Discography" takes a dip. Not to say it sucks, but it leaves a little teensy bit to be desired. So the question was Bad Brains' self-titled debut or Fishbone's sophomore effort "Truth and Soul"? Winner? Bad Brains. DC guys, Rastafaris, the preeminent band in DC hardcore and hardcore as a whole, and it's got the perfect blend of great, fast-paced songs like "Sailin' On" but it knows when to calm you down with a reggae track like "I Luv I Jah". Plus, it's still the best album in the whole world of punk and its many sub-genres. And if you've never heard "The Big Takeover", the intro alone to the song is enough to win this face-off.
Third category: English band. "The Best of Joy Division", Joy Divison or "The Very Best of the Jam", the Jam. This was immediately whittled down to just two albums because I felt most of the English bands I love were either new wave or punk. Since I did a punk category, that lopped off a lot of bands and new wave may be brought up later. So the two best bands to come out of Britain to me are Joy Division and the Jam. I think Joy Division may be one of the 10-15 best bands period, while the Jam are definitely top 25. Opinion, I know, but my whole blog has to be opinionated and it has to be MY opinion. I decided to go best of for both because you want the cream of the crop when it comes to song selections. So who wins? Joy Division? The Jam? Joy Division. No knock to the Jam, but hearing "In the City" while stranded on Gilligan's Island seems like sadomasochistic behaviour. Plus, Joy Division is a top 10 band, the Jam are a top 20ish band. That's a big difference. Also, I could go the rest of my life hearing "Transmission" and "She's Lost Control" every day.
Fourth category: Genre compilation. We've got here "Forever Freestyle", "The Pulse", "Sounds of the Eighties", "The Only Doo-Wop Collection You'll Ever Need". Now "Sounds of the Eighties" is a great thousand disc compilation that I procured illegally and perfectly mixes the best new wave, punk, power ballads, hair metal, all that good shit, but face it, it's too many damn CDs. Ixnay on the Sounds. "The Pulse" and "Forever Freestyle" aren't the same, but similar maybe? One is that great Miami freestyle sound and the other is like its bastard child that became 90s house and dance. I say go with the original, "Forever Freestyle" beats out "The Pulse". So doo-wop or freestyle? This was a very difficult choice. I love doo-wop. I used to listen to AM radio with my grandmother and hear just classic doo-wop songs on the way to school, home from school, to the mall, the market, everywhere. I think those malt-shop songs are fucking classic. Freestyle, though, oh man. It's the predecessor to booty bass and 90s dance. It's got cheesy lyrics. Some of the tracks have Latin flair. Earth Angel or I Wonder If I Take You Home? A Teenager in Love or Diamond Girl? Winner? Doo-Wop. Think about it. It's a two disc collection as opposed to Forever Freestyle's one, but those doo-wop songs are TIMELESS. You can be 3, 13, 23, 33, 53, 83 and genuinely appreciate those songs. Plus, the air in the mics, the pops on the recordings, that makes you feel like it was a time where people learned how to make and produce music rather than just press buttons and loop shit.
Fifth and final category: Wild-card. This isn't genre specific or anything, it's literally any album I want to fill that fifth spot. Nominees: Selena, "Ones"; Backyard Band, "Skillet"; Buena Vista Social Club, self-titled; Cannibal Corpse, "Bloodthirst"; Luny Tunes, "Mas Flow". Because the range is so wide, it's difficult to zero in on elimination. So first, I went like this, I can only take one tropical album so do I want son y mambo or reggaeton? I went reggaeton and Mas Flow knocks out Buena Vista. Hey, sorry, but that album has some fucking hits on it. Now, only one Spanish language album, so Selena or reggaeton? Sorry Mas Flow, but it's Selena and I'd do anything for Salinas! Cannibal Corpse, a top 10 band in my eyes, it bows out for the Hatebreed reasons, it's just too angry. Although there's fantastic drumming and it's the best album of theirs with Corpsegrinder on vocals, I can't be stranded on an island and hear about axes chopping heads and people being pounded into dust. So it comes down to Selena's greatest hits or Backyard Band's magnum opus. I love you, Selena. You brought tejano to the masses, you had a great voice, and your legend is immense...but I'm a DC guy. Give me "Skillet", the best go-go album EVER. And I'm a Groovers and TCB fan overall, but that BYB album is so fucking fantastic from the first second to the last! The first three songs alone crush most go-go albums into submission and embarrassment! If you've ever wanted to get into go-go or find out what it's all about, go buy Skillet right now. Right. Now. Ahorita!
So there you have it. If ever I'm stranded on a deserted island and can take five albums with me, they'd be: Mobb Deep, "The Infamous"; Bad Brains' self-titled debut, Joy Division, "The Best of Joy Division", "The Only Doo-Wop Collection You'll Ever Need", and Backyard Band, "Skillet".
Figure out yours and let me know @CochinoChuy on twitter.
Monday, January 30, 2012
2.9 -- Four Women for My Kid to Admire
This season of dull, boring, stupid lists keeps rolling, but luckily with this being the ninth of twelve episodes in season two, it's almost over! So to break the monotony of random bullshit that neither you nor I care about, I decided to spice it up.
As you may or may not know, I'm responsible for a four year old little girl. She's an absolute handful. She's entirely too affectionate. She talks back entirely too much. She pees the bed with reckless abandon. But every now and again, she's capable of some kinda cute or pretty cool shit. I have to give her credit where it's due. Sometimes she'll come next to me and show me her best Gator Chomp or tell me she can't wait to go see the Marlins again. See, to a dad, especially one who never wanted nor liked kids, that's the shit I like. But I do realise, she's a girl who will become a woman and she needs feminine role models. Hence this list. I've come up with four women whom I hope she could look up to and admire. I only had one criterion--the women had to look like her.
Why? Well, she's of African and Salvadoran heritage. As a little one, right now, she idolises (much to my utter hatred), the Disney whores. They look absolutely nothing like her. Nothing. And don't give me that Tiana shit. So it's important that she knows there's important people of similar racial or ethnic and cultural backgrounds. It's hard work being a woman already, but being one of colour too, you've just compounded the issue tenfold. So here we go. Four women my kid should admire.
4) Sonia Sotomayor. Associate Justice of the US Supreme Court, which without a doubt, is the most significant branch of our federal government. She's a Bronx girl, which gives her some street cred. She's the first person of Latin heritage (Puerto Rican, to be exact) on the bench, and more remarkable, only the third woman. (See what I mean about being a woman?) She also graduated from Princeton! In the seventies! I used to live in Princeton and spent some time on the campus, usually doing illegal stuff. That's become somewhat less homogeneous in its student body, but when Sotomayor was there, Princeton had less than 25 people of Latin ethnicity. You can only imagine the woman count was pretty low too. And she got into Princeton on a full ride. That alone, that's something the kid should admire. But long story short, she's been a private practice lawyer, she's moved through almost every single rank a judge can hold, she's been a professor of law, and is currently writing a memoir. That is an impressive resume indeed.
3) Celia Cruz. The Queen of Salsa and all Cuban music. Now, I admit, the kid has little rhythm and even worse dancing talent. However, this one is more about breaking ground, even more so than Justice Sotomayor. When you think of music, especially Salsa, you think of men--Blades, Colon, Puente, Pacheco, Valentin, etc. And yet, as huge as some of those names are, none have the weight nor importance as Celia Cruz does. That's saying something. She's toured the world over, she's received honours from American presidents, she's had her wardrobe in the National Smithsonian of American History, she's won seven Grammy awards, and even showed up in the movie "Mambo Kings". To say you like Salsa and not Cruz would be like claiming you're a Christian who doesn't believe in God. Impossible, right? The point here is music is and will always be such a hugely male-dominated arena, and Latin music, unless you're physically gorgeous, is no different. However, with hard work and mastery of a craft, you can smash that to pieces and be the biggest name ever. Not bad for an Afro-Latina with a Michael Strahan gap, que no?
2) Angela Davis. If you don't know this sister, you should immediately thank your lucky stars for what I'd have to assume is white privilege because there's no other reason to not know Angela Davis. I mean, for god's sake, she's only the face of one of the most famous pictures from the civil rights era ever! Writer, activist, freedom fighter, educator, and muse for a Rolling Stones song, Angela Davis...what can you really say about her? Politically, this is the woman I'd most want my kid to admire. Believe in the principles of Marxist ideology, fight for the rights of all peoples, strive for social justices and human rights, take a stand for something and defend it for dear life. I'm not even going to try to explain why the kid should emulate or look up to Angela, you should just fucking know already. Seriously. Like, seriously.
T-1) Her grandmother and her mother. Ah, some may say an obvious choice, but maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Her grandmother, good woman. Emigrated to the US from El Salvador and has been working ever since really. Taught herself English, which I find quite remarkable actually, considering how difficult English is to learn even in schools for ESL kids. The kid's grandmother's work ethic though is what I find astonishing. There's no job she won't do, no day she won't work. She really has put her family on her back and makes it look pretty easy, though she has experienced extremely difficult road blocks. I'm holding my fingers back because everything is not for me to say since it's not my mother, but if you only knew, you'd admire her too. Sure, she spoils the shit out of the kid, but she's a grandmother. And a damn good one, so here's to you.
Her mother, I can go more into detail on her. Coming out of a traditional Latin home, she seemed to know early on, a domestic life or a subordinate life was not going to suit her. Excelled in high school, got herself through college even while pregnant and eventually a mother, got herself through graduate school to earn a Masters, married a schmuck like me, picked her career field quickly and charged ahead into it. Quite amazing, really. Given the statistics of Latinas, given the statistics of women with children and blah blah blah, none of that meant anything to her. Sure, she's stubborn and bullish often, but a lot of that is how she's gotten to where she is today. Although I plead with the wife to cut the cord with the kid all the time, I hope the kid learns a lot from her.
Yeah so technically it's five women, but number one is a tie and they share DNA, so to me, that's one. Eat it if you disagree.
As you may or may not know, I'm responsible for a four year old little girl. She's an absolute handful. She's entirely too affectionate. She talks back entirely too much. She pees the bed with reckless abandon. But every now and again, she's capable of some kinda cute or pretty cool shit. I have to give her credit where it's due. Sometimes she'll come next to me and show me her best Gator Chomp or tell me she can't wait to go see the Marlins again. See, to a dad, especially one who never wanted nor liked kids, that's the shit I like. But I do realise, she's a girl who will become a woman and she needs feminine role models. Hence this list. I've come up with four women whom I hope she could look up to and admire. I only had one criterion--the women had to look like her.
Why? Well, she's of African and Salvadoran heritage. As a little one, right now, she idolises (much to my utter hatred), the Disney whores. They look absolutely nothing like her. Nothing. And don't give me that Tiana shit. So it's important that she knows there's important people of similar racial or ethnic and cultural backgrounds. It's hard work being a woman already, but being one of colour too, you've just compounded the issue tenfold. So here we go. Four women my kid should admire.
4) Sonia Sotomayor. Associate Justice of the US Supreme Court, which without a doubt, is the most significant branch of our federal government. She's a Bronx girl, which gives her some street cred. She's the first person of Latin heritage (Puerto Rican, to be exact) on the bench, and more remarkable, only the third woman. (See what I mean about being a woman?) She also graduated from Princeton! In the seventies! I used to live in Princeton and spent some time on the campus, usually doing illegal stuff. That's become somewhat less homogeneous in its student body, but when Sotomayor was there, Princeton had less than 25 people of Latin ethnicity. You can only imagine the woman count was pretty low too. And she got into Princeton on a full ride. That alone, that's something the kid should admire. But long story short, she's been a private practice lawyer, she's moved through almost every single rank a judge can hold, she's been a professor of law, and is currently writing a memoir. That is an impressive resume indeed.
3) Celia Cruz. The Queen of Salsa and all Cuban music. Now, I admit, the kid has little rhythm and even worse dancing talent. However, this one is more about breaking ground, even more so than Justice Sotomayor. When you think of music, especially Salsa, you think of men--Blades, Colon, Puente, Pacheco, Valentin, etc. And yet, as huge as some of those names are, none have the weight nor importance as Celia Cruz does. That's saying something. She's toured the world over, she's received honours from American presidents, she's had her wardrobe in the National Smithsonian of American History, she's won seven Grammy awards, and even showed up in the movie "Mambo Kings". To say you like Salsa and not Cruz would be like claiming you're a Christian who doesn't believe in God. Impossible, right? The point here is music is and will always be such a hugely male-dominated arena, and Latin music, unless you're physically gorgeous, is no different. However, with hard work and mastery of a craft, you can smash that to pieces and be the biggest name ever. Not bad for an Afro-Latina with a Michael Strahan gap, que no?
2) Angela Davis. If you don't know this sister, you should immediately thank your lucky stars for what I'd have to assume is white privilege because there's no other reason to not know Angela Davis. I mean, for god's sake, she's only the face of one of the most famous pictures from the civil rights era ever! Writer, activist, freedom fighter, educator, and muse for a Rolling Stones song, Angela Davis...what can you really say about her? Politically, this is the woman I'd most want my kid to admire. Believe in the principles of Marxist ideology, fight for the rights of all peoples, strive for social justices and human rights, take a stand for something and defend it for dear life. I'm not even going to try to explain why the kid should emulate or look up to Angela, you should just fucking know already. Seriously. Like, seriously.
T-1) Her grandmother and her mother. Ah, some may say an obvious choice, but maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Her grandmother, good woman. Emigrated to the US from El Salvador and has been working ever since really. Taught herself English, which I find quite remarkable actually, considering how difficult English is to learn even in schools for ESL kids. The kid's grandmother's work ethic though is what I find astonishing. There's no job she won't do, no day she won't work. She really has put her family on her back and makes it look pretty easy, though she has experienced extremely difficult road blocks. I'm holding my fingers back because everything is not for me to say since it's not my mother, but if you only knew, you'd admire her too. Sure, she spoils the shit out of the kid, but she's a grandmother. And a damn good one, so here's to you.
Her mother, I can go more into detail on her. Coming out of a traditional Latin home, she seemed to know early on, a domestic life or a subordinate life was not going to suit her. Excelled in high school, got herself through college even while pregnant and eventually a mother, got herself through graduate school to earn a Masters, married a schmuck like me, picked her career field quickly and charged ahead into it. Quite amazing, really. Given the statistics of Latinas, given the statistics of women with children and blah blah blah, none of that meant anything to her. Sure, she's stubborn and bullish often, but a lot of that is how she's gotten to where she is today. Although I plead with the wife to cut the cord with the kid all the time, I hope the kid learns a lot from her.
Yeah so technically it's five women, but number one is a tie and they share DNA, so to me, that's one. Eat it if you disagree.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
2.8 -- Eleven Reasons Why I'm a Bit of an Anglophile
It's no secret, I'm a bit of an Anglophile. Sure, I love lots of other countries and know a lot about their histories, their customs and cultures, but one I've had my attention for a long while is England. Makes sense though seeing that we both speak the same language, sorta. But we share a lot of things. We watch each other's sports, eat some of each other's foods, and a lot of our television shows came directly from England. So, you may be a bit of an Anglophile too and not even know it! Anyway, I have 11 reasons of why I'm an Anglophile. Here we go.
11) DJ Spoony. The man has done it all from underground radio to BBC radio to working with the Dreem Team to hosting a 6-0-6 show to Strictly Come Dancing. I'm a bit of a fan of his DJ work, especially with Dreem Team, but I really grew to love him when he left his post at BBC Radio 1 and became the host of BBC 5 Live's 6-0-6. He was always much more enjoyable than Tim Lovejoy or Alan Green. The man's not perfect; he is a Liverpool supporter (even though he's from Hackney), and he did plead guilty to choking an ex-girlfriend, but then again, how many people would kill for one chance to choke an ex?
10) PG Tips Monkey. He's a sock monkey who likes to drink tea, but not just any tea, only PG Tips. He reminds me of a monkey I've had for almost 28 years now, only Monkey is an international celebrity. I often get to see his commercials while watching pirated UK channels or scouring youtube for them (The Rainy Day one makes me feel fuzzy every time) and I even "liked" him on facebook. Monkey should be a national treasure, way more than Churchill.
9) Fish and Chips. It's a classic. Fried cod or haddock, thick sliced chips, malt vinegar, a wedge of lemon, and tartar sauce wrapped in white paper. I may be a vegetarian, but I'll cheat for proper fish and chips.
8) Absolutely Fabulous. Drugs, booze, promiscuous sex, foul mouths, and two old birds trying to recapture lost youth. The tales of Edina and Patsy are fucking glourious, mate. I've been a fan since my early teens, and I still watch them on demand. You want to know how successful Ab-Fab is of a show? It's in its third run now. That's right, three runs: 92-96, 2001-2004, and now 2011 to present. It's a great show, a show that would never make it on American television, not with all of our Parent groups and our Christian Right. Oh, and for extra giggles, go look up what Patsy's birth name is on the show, it's a mouthful.
7) Joy Division. Without a doubt, the best English band ever and the finest export from Greater Manchester. Although the group only got to have four years before the lead singer, Ian Curtis, committed suicide, Joy Division was able to make two phenomenal albums. Unknown Pleasures is the more recognised album I'd assume because of the iconic cover, but it's Closer that's the better album, with songs like "Heart and Soul", "Isolation", and "Twenty-Four Hours". But with songs like "Transmission", "She's Lost Control", "Love Will Tear Us Apart", it's hard to not love Joy Division. They don't make music like that anymore anywhere (although not in the same vain, but Bloc Pary is hard to deny.)
6) Jungle/Drum and Bass. Take the Amen break and mix it with dub and throw it through a computer processor and you get the wonderful music that is Jungle, which later evolved into DnB. There's still the debate if Jungle and DnB are the same or different or who knows. I could care less. I like DnB, but I prefer old jungle; Grooverider, Krust, Congo Natty, LTJ Bukem, and more, those old jungle DJs put out classic cuts that still get spins on my iPod or stereo. DnB is good too, though. Who wouldn't like Roni Size or Goldie? They make good stuff. However, if I had to make a choice, I'm gonna pick jungle. I just really love the influence of the Amen break.
5) Spellings. Most of my fellow American friends notice I spell quite a few words in the English style. It's not a snooty thing or to feel more polished, I just like the way it looks. Tottenham are my favourite club. I don't like manual transmission, I find it harder to manouevre. Whilst some of you were studying for tests, I was rolling blunts. See? Doesn't that just look cooler?
4) Garage and Grime. I know, I know. They're not the same, and unlike the case of Jungle and DnB, these two really aren't the same. Yet, I group them together here at number four because without Garage, it's hard to say there'd ever be Grime. Garage, although not as popular as it once was, is still great fucking music. It's hard to explain what garage is if you've never heard it, more so because I'd have to use musical terms that'd have no foundation in your head. Think of garage as slicker, simpler house music but with more of a dub and reggae influence if that makes any sense. You probably know one garage song and it's probably Daniel Bedingfield's "Gotta Get Through This". (If you want to find out more about UK Garage, look up artists like Dreem Team, the Artful Dodger, Sunship, Shola Ama.) Eventually the garage sound took more of a turn into hip-hop and birthed Grime. Grime is my shit. It's not for everyone, as I've tried to turn many friends onto it but often hear them shoot it down, but I fuck with it hard. Slew Dem, Roll Deep, BBK, Newham Generals, Tinchy Stryder, Ghetts, ugh, so many old and new. I would say between most rap here and most grime over there...eh, it's tough to decide.
3) English Football. Premiership, Championship, League One, League Two, Blue Square, whatever. I just love English footy. While the rest of the world is on fire with La Liga, or at least ever since Serie A went into the tank after calciopoli, I'm still stuck on English football. I couldn't care less about Real Madrid and Barcelona, but I do care about whether Southampton will win promotion or how Gus Poyet is doing at Brighton; how long til AFC Wimbledon surpass MK Dons in league structure, and whether young Ferguson will ever be as hot as he was a couple seasons back when he had the Posh on quite a run. Sure, some may label it as direct, route one, lump it up to your number nine, but I still love it. The songs, the spirit, the way clubs overpay for English talent, all of it. Plus, when Arsenal lose domestically or get throttled in European play, everyone wins!
2) Spice Girls. A manufactured group of five girls from all over England captured my eyes, ears, and heart in the mid-90s. I've told the readers this before, but I had all the officially licensed tapes, lollipops, stickers, magazines, dolls, every goddamned thing Spice under the sun. They covered one whole wall of my room, and I had to buy two of every magazine--one to cut up and one to keep. It's the only reason I got into football at all, with Mel B. being a Leeds fan, Mel C. being a Liverpool supporter, and Emma being a supporter of by far the greatest team the world has ever seen. They got me into the world of English footy. And surprisingly, as much as they were eye candy, I've never jerked off to them. How did I not do that?! I must have labelled them sacred. Favourite Spice? Sporty. Favourite song? "Who Do You Think You Are?" Favourite moment? Geri in the Union Jack dress.
1) Danny Baker. Ah, Danny Baker. I love everything Danny Baker. Well almost everything (he is a Millwall supporter; can't get with that). He's witty, he's old, he loves a lot of the same music, he wears funny hats, he hosts a sports show that's even more loosely about sports than Tony Kornheiser's radio show, he was an official member of Led Zeppelin, and he killed Bob Marley. Yes, you read that right. He killed Bob Marley. Okay, not quite, but it's a rather interesting anecdote either way. He's bounced around throughout radio, but I'm more a fan of his work after his return to 6-0-6 with the Tuesday night Pirate Ship, and now his Saturday morning show (although I miss Issy Clarke a lot, but Lynsey Hipgrave has grown on me). He's brought us Teletext Alex, Highbrow above the Eyebrow, the Awesome, Destructive Power of the Football, and many other looney topics. All of this aside, his greatest triumph is undoubtedly, the Sausage Sandwich Game (originally titled "Oi! Do Me a Favour!"). So tell me, will it be red sauce, will it be brown sauce, or will it be no sauce at all?
11) DJ Spoony. The man has done it all from underground radio to BBC radio to working with the Dreem Team to hosting a 6-0-6 show to Strictly Come Dancing. I'm a bit of a fan of his DJ work, especially with Dreem Team, but I really grew to love him when he left his post at BBC Radio 1 and became the host of BBC 5 Live's 6-0-6. He was always much more enjoyable than Tim Lovejoy or Alan Green. The man's not perfect; he is a Liverpool supporter (even though he's from Hackney), and he did plead guilty to choking an ex-girlfriend, but then again, how many people would kill for one chance to choke an ex?
10) PG Tips Monkey. He's a sock monkey who likes to drink tea, but not just any tea, only PG Tips. He reminds me of a monkey I've had for almost 28 years now, only Monkey is an international celebrity. I often get to see his commercials while watching pirated UK channels or scouring youtube for them (The Rainy Day one makes me feel fuzzy every time) and I even "liked" him on facebook. Monkey should be a national treasure, way more than Churchill.
9) Fish and Chips. It's a classic. Fried cod or haddock, thick sliced chips, malt vinegar, a wedge of lemon, and tartar sauce wrapped in white paper. I may be a vegetarian, but I'll cheat for proper fish and chips.
8) Absolutely Fabulous. Drugs, booze, promiscuous sex, foul mouths, and two old birds trying to recapture lost youth. The tales of Edina and Patsy are fucking glourious, mate. I've been a fan since my early teens, and I still watch them on demand. You want to know how successful Ab-Fab is of a show? It's in its third run now. That's right, three runs: 92-96, 2001-2004, and now 2011 to present. It's a great show, a show that would never make it on American television, not with all of our Parent groups and our Christian Right. Oh, and for extra giggles, go look up what Patsy's birth name is on the show, it's a mouthful.
7) Joy Division. Without a doubt, the best English band ever and the finest export from Greater Manchester. Although the group only got to have four years before the lead singer, Ian Curtis, committed suicide, Joy Division was able to make two phenomenal albums. Unknown Pleasures is the more recognised album I'd assume because of the iconic cover, but it's Closer that's the better album, with songs like "Heart and Soul", "Isolation", and "Twenty-Four Hours". But with songs like "Transmission", "She's Lost Control", "Love Will Tear Us Apart", it's hard to not love Joy Division. They don't make music like that anymore anywhere (although not in the same vain, but Bloc Pary is hard to deny.)
6) Jungle/Drum and Bass. Take the Amen break and mix it with dub and throw it through a computer processor and you get the wonderful music that is Jungle, which later evolved into DnB. There's still the debate if Jungle and DnB are the same or different or who knows. I could care less. I like DnB, but I prefer old jungle; Grooverider, Krust, Congo Natty, LTJ Bukem, and more, those old jungle DJs put out classic cuts that still get spins on my iPod or stereo. DnB is good too, though. Who wouldn't like Roni Size or Goldie? They make good stuff. However, if I had to make a choice, I'm gonna pick jungle. I just really love the influence of the Amen break.
5) Spellings. Most of my fellow American friends notice I spell quite a few words in the English style. It's not a snooty thing or to feel more polished, I just like the way it looks. Tottenham are my favourite club. I don't like manual transmission, I find it harder to manouevre. Whilst some of you were studying for tests, I was rolling blunts. See? Doesn't that just look cooler?
4) Garage and Grime. I know, I know. They're not the same, and unlike the case of Jungle and DnB, these two really aren't the same. Yet, I group them together here at number four because without Garage, it's hard to say there'd ever be Grime. Garage, although not as popular as it once was, is still great fucking music. It's hard to explain what garage is if you've never heard it, more so because I'd have to use musical terms that'd have no foundation in your head. Think of garage as slicker, simpler house music but with more of a dub and reggae influence if that makes any sense. You probably know one garage song and it's probably Daniel Bedingfield's "Gotta Get Through This". (If you want to find out more about UK Garage, look up artists like Dreem Team, the Artful Dodger, Sunship, Shola Ama.) Eventually the garage sound took more of a turn into hip-hop and birthed Grime. Grime is my shit. It's not for everyone, as I've tried to turn many friends onto it but often hear them shoot it down, but I fuck with it hard. Slew Dem, Roll Deep, BBK, Newham Generals, Tinchy Stryder, Ghetts, ugh, so many old and new. I would say between most rap here and most grime over there...eh, it's tough to decide.
3) English Football. Premiership, Championship, League One, League Two, Blue Square, whatever. I just love English footy. While the rest of the world is on fire with La Liga, or at least ever since Serie A went into the tank after calciopoli, I'm still stuck on English football. I couldn't care less about Real Madrid and Barcelona, but I do care about whether Southampton will win promotion or how Gus Poyet is doing at Brighton; how long til AFC Wimbledon surpass MK Dons in league structure, and whether young Ferguson will ever be as hot as he was a couple seasons back when he had the Posh on quite a run. Sure, some may label it as direct, route one, lump it up to your number nine, but I still love it. The songs, the spirit, the way clubs overpay for English talent, all of it. Plus, when Arsenal lose domestically or get throttled in European play, everyone wins!
2) Spice Girls. A manufactured group of five girls from all over England captured my eyes, ears, and heart in the mid-90s. I've told the readers this before, but I had all the officially licensed tapes, lollipops, stickers, magazines, dolls, every goddamned thing Spice under the sun. They covered one whole wall of my room, and I had to buy two of every magazine--one to cut up and one to keep. It's the only reason I got into football at all, with Mel B. being a Leeds fan, Mel C. being a Liverpool supporter, and Emma being a supporter of by far the greatest team the world has ever seen. They got me into the world of English footy. And surprisingly, as much as they were eye candy, I've never jerked off to them. How did I not do that?! I must have labelled them sacred. Favourite Spice? Sporty. Favourite song? "Who Do You Think You Are?" Favourite moment? Geri in the Union Jack dress.
1) Danny Baker. Ah, Danny Baker. I love everything Danny Baker. Well almost everything (he is a Millwall supporter; can't get with that). He's witty, he's old, he loves a lot of the same music, he wears funny hats, he hosts a sports show that's even more loosely about sports than Tony Kornheiser's radio show, he was an official member of Led Zeppelin, and he killed Bob Marley. Yes, you read that right. He killed Bob Marley. Okay, not quite, but it's a rather interesting anecdote either way. He's bounced around throughout radio, but I'm more a fan of his work after his return to 6-0-6 with the Tuesday night Pirate Ship, and now his Saturday morning show (although I miss Issy Clarke a lot, but Lynsey Hipgrave has grown on me). He's brought us Teletext Alex, Highbrow above the Eyebrow, the Awesome, Destructive Power of the Football, and many other looney topics. All of this aside, his greatest triumph is undoubtedly, the Sausage Sandwich Game (originally titled "Oi! Do Me a Favour!"). So tell me, will it be red sauce, will it be brown sauce, or will it be no sauce at all?
Monday, January 23, 2012
2.7 -- #30ThingsAboutMe
Fuck you. Sue me. Whatever. So a season full of lists... maybe not my best idea. Sounded good. I mean everyone likes to list things for some reason. I'm trying not to lean heavy on sports and music, so finding variety in lists to keep all 12 of you interested? Not the easiest thing to do. But nevertheless, I'm here again.
So I see on the twitter that #30thingsaboutme is trending worldwide. Thank god. I hadn't blogged in over 10 days probably, so that's the easiest idea in the world. Thirty things, no explanation, just straight up. Let's get this shit over with. If you have questions or comments, you can find me on facebook, twitter, or tumblr and ask. So here we go.
1. I'm more compassionate to aggregates rather than individuals when it comes to people.
2. I never once told my mother she looked nice. Never.
3. Comfort and being comfortable, they both scare the hell out of me.
4. The only DC trend I can say I ever fell into was I once had a pair of Nike boots. Ugh.
5. I could eat broccoli all day; raw, steamed, boiled, sauteed, whatever.
6. I can't have a big bag of chips without eating the whole thing that day, regardless if it's a 6-8 oz bag or family size.
7. If you order coffee with whipped cream, sprinkles, swirls, flavoured syrups, any of that kind of shit, I will judge you to no end.
8. I idolise blue collar folks, be it farmers or people with steel lunch boxes.
9. Living in South Florida as a card-carrying Marxist, you learn quickly just to avoid all political conversations with people.
10. I'm a cat person.
11. I almost always immediately hate anything popular, and sometimes just because it's popular. I can admit it.
12. I find a woman in her underwear (not bra, but I don't like saying the P word) is much hotter than a totally naked woman.
13. My line number is 13, but I tried to be a 14.
14. I always find it funny, and not in a good sense, that us black folks will always use our "blackness" to intimidate most white folks.
15. I get tired of most people I know very quickly.
16. I sincerely hope to move out of the country by the time the kid's out of college or whatever route she chooses to take.
17. I often cook even if I'm not hungry; I just like to be in the kitchen.
18. I love soccer and American football, but the soccer fan who gets bent out of shape about calling that sport the real football doesn't know their history and really, who gives a shit? And yes, I call soccer football too but only with other footy fans.
19. I'm a fan of change for change's sake.
20. I will wear socks and underwear until they literally evapourate into thin air.
21. I have Italian heritage, and yet, I've never rooted for Italy in any international competition of any sort and I really don't plan on ever doing so.
22. I like to get stupid tattoos with little to no meaning because I really don't give a shit; it's more of a fuck you to society than a deep meaning.
23. I think Waffle House is one of the greatest eating establishments in America.
24. I still find it incredibly hard to suppress my natural urge to yell "O!" during the national anthem every time I hear it.
25. I wish I liked jazz more, but I only find it tolerable.
26. If it weren't for the sexism and rules about hair, I'd probably adhere to the Rastafari movement.
27. I really don't watch too many sitcoms of the last 10 years, as I'm still stuck on Seinfeld, Married..., and Roseanne syndications.
28. However, I do think Parks and Rec is fucking genius.
29. If you're a Republican, I probably think you're an idiot; if you're a Democrat, I probably think you're an idiot.
30. I wish I had thought of paternity tests and teenage whores (both male and female) before Maury did.
So I see on the twitter that #30thingsaboutme is trending worldwide. Thank god. I hadn't blogged in over 10 days probably, so that's the easiest idea in the world. Thirty things, no explanation, just straight up. Let's get this shit over with. If you have questions or comments, you can find me on facebook, twitter, or tumblr and ask. So here we go.
1. I'm more compassionate to aggregates rather than individuals when it comes to people.
2. I never once told my mother she looked nice. Never.
3. Comfort and being comfortable, they both scare the hell out of me.
4. The only DC trend I can say I ever fell into was I once had a pair of Nike boots. Ugh.
5. I could eat broccoli all day; raw, steamed, boiled, sauteed, whatever.
6. I can't have a big bag of chips without eating the whole thing that day, regardless if it's a 6-8 oz bag or family size.
7. If you order coffee with whipped cream, sprinkles, swirls, flavoured syrups, any of that kind of shit, I will judge you to no end.
8. I idolise blue collar folks, be it farmers or people with steel lunch boxes.
9. Living in South Florida as a card-carrying Marxist, you learn quickly just to avoid all political conversations with people.
10. I'm a cat person.
11. I almost always immediately hate anything popular, and sometimes just because it's popular. I can admit it.
12. I find a woman in her underwear (not bra, but I don't like saying the P word) is much hotter than a totally naked woman.
13. My line number is 13, but I tried to be a 14.
14. I always find it funny, and not in a good sense, that us black folks will always use our "blackness" to intimidate most white folks.
15. I get tired of most people I know very quickly.
16. I sincerely hope to move out of the country by the time the kid's out of college or whatever route she chooses to take.
17. I often cook even if I'm not hungry; I just like to be in the kitchen.
18. I love soccer and American football, but the soccer fan who gets bent out of shape about calling that sport the real football doesn't know their history and really, who gives a shit? And yes, I call soccer football too but only with other footy fans.
19. I'm a fan of change for change's sake.
20. I will wear socks and underwear until they literally evapourate into thin air.
21. I have Italian heritage, and yet, I've never rooted for Italy in any international competition of any sort and I really don't plan on ever doing so.
22. I like to get stupid tattoos with little to no meaning because I really don't give a shit; it's more of a fuck you to society than a deep meaning.
23. I think Waffle House is one of the greatest eating establishments in America.
24. I still find it incredibly hard to suppress my natural urge to yell "O!" during the national anthem every time I hear it.
25. I wish I liked jazz more, but I only find it tolerable.
26. If it weren't for the sexism and rules about hair, I'd probably adhere to the Rastafari movement.
27. I really don't watch too many sitcoms of the last 10 years, as I'm still stuck on Seinfeld, Married..., and Roseanne syndications.
28. However, I do think Parks and Rec is fucking genius.
29. If you're a Republican, I probably think you're an idiot; if you're a Democrat, I probably think you're an idiot.
30. I wish I had thought of paternity tests and teenage whores (both male and female) before Maury did.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
2.6 -- Eight Things That Have Ruined Pornography
After this episode, we'll be halfway through season two and the end of this season cannot come fast enough. I made a stupid mistake thinking I should do a season of lists entirely. Sounds good in theory, right? You probably sit around with your mates all the time and discuss the best of, the worst of, the most overrated, the most underrated, and it's always fun. Yeah, but when you sit down to have that same discussion with yourself, it sucks. So no more bullshit, let's get on with episode six.
I like porn. I used to love porn. Remember the first time you saw your first X-rated movie? The fear of getting caught? The overflowing of blood to extremities? Wondering if the girls really enjoyed it or if it were all a ruse? Those were the days. I remember my first flick. I stole it from my cousin, it was called "Black Fox", starring Ebony Ayes and Nina de Ponca. I remember it like yesterday. It was the very movie that made me decide to be the best pussy-eater I can be. Anyway, that movie was from 1989, before mainstream porn jumped the shark. You'd be hard pressed to find a movie like that anymore.
Today's porn? Not for me. Don't get me wrong, I'll still give a good tug but it's more because I'm bored or the wife is out of town or I need to get some sleep so why not release? But so much of it is either just completely disgusting or just degrading. I'm glad I never learned about sex from X-rated films and that I had a mother who gave me the Joy of Sex as a preteen to read and reread. Anyway, I've come up with eight things that have ruined porn for me today.
8) Porn Stars. If you fuck on film, you're an adult entertainer, an adult film actor/actress, whatever. Just because you fuck on film, it does not, DOES NOT, make you a porn star. I'm a fan of the porn of my youth, that early 90s porn. Ginger Lynn, Vanessa del Rio, Dominique, Savannah, Kobe Tai, Heather Hunter, these girls were porn stars. These girls today in porn, I don't even know their names. And with the market so saturated, trust me, it's got to be impossible to become a star today. I'm sure the contract girls are probably stars like Bella Donna, but it's not the same. The lustre of being a porn star is certainly gone. So if you're the girl in a three penis scene in hour number three of a gonzo film, you're not a star, honey.
7) Squirting. Somehow I went probably ten years in watching or knowing about all kinds of vile genres of pornography without ever coming across squirting. And even still, it felt like for the longest, only that Cytherea chick or whomever she is, was squirting on film. Today? EVERYONE is squirting, even the damn grip guy is squirting. And it's one thing to have sex, come on film and squirt, but it's another when it's 20 girls all squirting on one person's face or swapping squirt juice, whatever. Like seriously? If you're jerking off to this, you may as well move on to snuff films, you sick bastard.
6) Anal Scenes. DISCLAIMER--I've never stuck anything of mine into a woman's ass. The idea of it... it's not my scene. That said, I used to be quite a fan of the anal scene in a flick because it wasn't every single fucking scene. It used to be in an hour long tape, MAYBE one girl got it in the butt, and that taboo made it exciting. Now? Please. So many of our young women around the world are going to have anal problems because they're taking two in there at the same time, there's no lubrication, hell a lot of guys don't even touch the vagina and just plow the asshole. Like holy cow, people. I would assume, your average heterosexual couple who do go backdoor aren't going backdoor every sexual encounter. If you were an alien and had to learn about our sexual habits from porn... well no wonder the anal probe is so popular among Americans who've been "abducted" by aliens. Please. Stop, women. Stop letting these wild hogs blast your anal cavity to oblivion. Think about your life ten years down the road. Oh, and Brasilians, y'all really need to stop it.
5) Mandingo STILL Slays the White Girl. It's 2012, motherfuckers. 2012. Get your head around that. It's 2012. Yet, we still have actual movies like the Blindside, the Help; we still have sitcoms based in NYC or Chicago and you never see a coloured face as a passer-by nor majour character really; and yes, we still have the big black penis ripping the petite white woman's lady bits to shreds. How is this still popular in 2012?! I have the suspicion that it's neo-Nazis and white supremacists who are the biggest audience of this shit. It's tired, y'all. Move the fuck on.
4) Too Much Head, Not Enough Head. Let's say your average one-on-one heterosexual porn scene is 40 minutes. I guarantee you, 20 of those 40 minutes, the woman is blowing the guy. I'm not a big fan of a blowjob, give me one a year and I'm fine. I'm a pussy eater. I like to critique the cunnilingus in flicks but shit, they never eat any! Oh, I'm sorry, they do when they take off her panties and give a few general broad licks that encompass asshole and vulva. Wow. Looks like fun if your idea of fun someone dragging a damp washcloth down your crack, ladies. And the camera angles for the five minutes of eating suck. Like, I can't get jiggy with that shit! Furthermore, even before I saw Black Fox, my mom pulled me to the side and told me as a preteen, if you learn to love eating your woman out, you'll be in high demand. And she was right. Now there's a generation of young heterosexual men who just gloss over cunnilingus because they learn everything from XXX movies and there isn't any in said movies. Depressing. If I made movies, I'd make whole scenes of just eating pussy.
3) Lesbian Porn. I have a gay father, a few gay uncles, and over the years have had a good number of gay friends of both sexes. I've never liked lesbian porn and I've never met a lesbian who likes lesbian porn and I don't blame them. The shit is retarded. Two girls, lipsticked up, teased hair, best slutty outfits, eating box to entertain men. I get it, that sells probably, but why not gear some to actual lesbians?! Give me the scene with the butch and the lipstick who actually live a lesbian lifestyle in the bedroom rather than two girls going gay for pay. And what's with the long fingernails?! You can't do anything outside of a pap smear with those stylised nails! And the trying to look pretty while eating, stop. Get your face in there, get it messy. You'll enjoy it more. I mean I'm not a woman, but I love having remnant all in my facial hair. That's amazing. And then just attacking the clitoris from the word go... ugh, get out of here. It's so fucking bad. Maybe the studios should get actual lesbians on payroll, if not to fuck on camera, well to at least advise and make things accurate. But then again, I guess porn never claimed to be accurate.
2) Misogyny. I'm not talking about the general exploitation of women because I don't think porn as a whole does that. I do believe porn serves a function and it does pay a nice premium from my research, so exploitation, meh, whatever. I'm talking about the throat gagging, the smacking, the choking, the making a woman's mascara run, the pinching the nose while making the woman deep throat, the slapping in the face with penises, the ATMs, the constant calling of bitch and ho, the forcefulness of many scenes. It feels a lot like you're watching rape on tape rather than consenting adults. Just so much of porn seems to be "How can we get this dumb bitch to do totally disgusting shit on camera? I know! I'll fuck her in the ass unexpectedly, pull out, slap her in the eye with my penis and then make her suck me off while I choke her and spit in her face!" No part of that is entertaining nor attractive. I can't even stand to watch actual movies where there are rape scenes, but the new wave of hardcore porn, Christ. It's not okay, people. There needs to be more female adult movie makers or something.
1) Shaved Beaver. This is a fucking epidemic and my biggest complaint with porn and women today. Pubic hair is not unattractive nor does it have cooties! Stop shaving and looking like eight year old girls! Somewhere I went from all the girls I dated had at least a landing strip to all the girls shaving. Shit's not cute. I've tried to beg the wife to just let hers grow, but she's been convinced that's nasty and not ladylike. Fuck that. This is why 80s porn is the best, big bushy hairy beaver. When I go downstairs, I want to feel a nice soft muff under my nose, not stubble or baldness. I mean, really, that's like licking the top of a bald man's head, not eating some of the best stuff on earth and savouring the essence! Porn actresses, start growing out those bushes again! Don't be ashamed! And the worst part, if I want to see a woman with a big beaver, I have to look at hirsute porn, but then they have hairy legs, pleasure trails, bushy armpits, mustaches, all kinds of shit. It's a sad day when a woman thinks pubic hair is embarrassing.
There you have it. Eight things that have ruined pornography for me. It's time to take a stand against the shit we're getting now. We need a return to classic porn, more organic sex on film, not shit just to shock and awe. Thank you.
I like porn. I used to love porn. Remember the first time you saw your first X-rated movie? The fear of getting caught? The overflowing of blood to extremities? Wondering if the girls really enjoyed it or if it were all a ruse? Those were the days. I remember my first flick. I stole it from my cousin, it was called "Black Fox", starring Ebony Ayes and Nina de Ponca. I remember it like yesterday. It was the very movie that made me decide to be the best pussy-eater I can be. Anyway, that movie was from 1989, before mainstream porn jumped the shark. You'd be hard pressed to find a movie like that anymore.
Today's porn? Not for me. Don't get me wrong, I'll still give a good tug but it's more because I'm bored or the wife is out of town or I need to get some sleep so why not release? But so much of it is either just completely disgusting or just degrading. I'm glad I never learned about sex from X-rated films and that I had a mother who gave me the Joy of Sex as a preteen to read and reread. Anyway, I've come up with eight things that have ruined porn for me today.
8) Porn Stars. If you fuck on film, you're an adult entertainer, an adult film actor/actress, whatever. Just because you fuck on film, it does not, DOES NOT, make you a porn star. I'm a fan of the porn of my youth, that early 90s porn. Ginger Lynn, Vanessa del Rio, Dominique, Savannah, Kobe Tai, Heather Hunter, these girls were porn stars. These girls today in porn, I don't even know their names. And with the market so saturated, trust me, it's got to be impossible to become a star today. I'm sure the contract girls are probably stars like Bella Donna, but it's not the same. The lustre of being a porn star is certainly gone. So if you're the girl in a three penis scene in hour number three of a gonzo film, you're not a star, honey.
7) Squirting. Somehow I went probably ten years in watching or knowing about all kinds of vile genres of pornography without ever coming across squirting. And even still, it felt like for the longest, only that Cytherea chick or whomever she is, was squirting on film. Today? EVERYONE is squirting, even the damn grip guy is squirting. And it's one thing to have sex, come on film and squirt, but it's another when it's 20 girls all squirting on one person's face or swapping squirt juice, whatever. Like seriously? If you're jerking off to this, you may as well move on to snuff films, you sick bastard.
6) Anal Scenes. DISCLAIMER--I've never stuck anything of mine into a woman's ass. The idea of it... it's not my scene. That said, I used to be quite a fan of the anal scene in a flick because it wasn't every single fucking scene. It used to be in an hour long tape, MAYBE one girl got it in the butt, and that taboo made it exciting. Now? Please. So many of our young women around the world are going to have anal problems because they're taking two in there at the same time, there's no lubrication, hell a lot of guys don't even touch the vagina and just plow the asshole. Like holy cow, people. I would assume, your average heterosexual couple who do go backdoor aren't going backdoor every sexual encounter. If you were an alien and had to learn about our sexual habits from porn... well no wonder the anal probe is so popular among Americans who've been "abducted" by aliens. Please. Stop, women. Stop letting these wild hogs blast your anal cavity to oblivion. Think about your life ten years down the road. Oh, and Brasilians, y'all really need to stop it.
5) Mandingo STILL Slays the White Girl. It's 2012, motherfuckers. 2012. Get your head around that. It's 2012. Yet, we still have actual movies like the Blindside, the Help; we still have sitcoms based in NYC or Chicago and you never see a coloured face as a passer-by nor majour character really; and yes, we still have the big black penis ripping the petite white woman's lady bits to shreds. How is this still popular in 2012?! I have the suspicion that it's neo-Nazis and white supremacists who are the biggest audience of this shit. It's tired, y'all. Move the fuck on.
4) Too Much Head, Not Enough Head. Let's say your average one-on-one heterosexual porn scene is 40 minutes. I guarantee you, 20 of those 40 minutes, the woman is blowing the guy. I'm not a big fan of a blowjob, give me one a year and I'm fine. I'm a pussy eater. I like to critique the cunnilingus in flicks but shit, they never eat any! Oh, I'm sorry, they do when they take off her panties and give a few general broad licks that encompass asshole and vulva. Wow. Looks like fun if your idea of fun someone dragging a damp washcloth down your crack, ladies. And the camera angles for the five minutes of eating suck. Like, I can't get jiggy with that shit! Furthermore, even before I saw Black Fox, my mom pulled me to the side and told me as a preteen, if you learn to love eating your woman out, you'll be in high demand. And she was right. Now there's a generation of young heterosexual men who just gloss over cunnilingus because they learn everything from XXX movies and there isn't any in said movies. Depressing. If I made movies, I'd make whole scenes of just eating pussy.
3) Lesbian Porn. I have a gay father, a few gay uncles, and over the years have had a good number of gay friends of both sexes. I've never liked lesbian porn and I've never met a lesbian who likes lesbian porn and I don't blame them. The shit is retarded. Two girls, lipsticked up, teased hair, best slutty outfits, eating box to entertain men. I get it, that sells probably, but why not gear some to actual lesbians?! Give me the scene with the butch and the lipstick who actually live a lesbian lifestyle in the bedroom rather than two girls going gay for pay. And what's with the long fingernails?! You can't do anything outside of a pap smear with those stylised nails! And the trying to look pretty while eating, stop. Get your face in there, get it messy. You'll enjoy it more. I mean I'm not a woman, but I love having remnant all in my facial hair. That's amazing. And then just attacking the clitoris from the word go... ugh, get out of here. It's so fucking bad. Maybe the studios should get actual lesbians on payroll, if not to fuck on camera, well to at least advise and make things accurate. But then again, I guess porn never claimed to be accurate.
2) Misogyny. I'm not talking about the general exploitation of women because I don't think porn as a whole does that. I do believe porn serves a function and it does pay a nice premium from my research, so exploitation, meh, whatever. I'm talking about the throat gagging, the smacking, the choking, the making a woman's mascara run, the pinching the nose while making the woman deep throat, the slapping in the face with penises, the ATMs, the constant calling of bitch and ho, the forcefulness of many scenes. It feels a lot like you're watching rape on tape rather than consenting adults. Just so much of porn seems to be "How can we get this dumb bitch to do totally disgusting shit on camera? I know! I'll fuck her in the ass unexpectedly, pull out, slap her in the eye with my penis and then make her suck me off while I choke her and spit in her face!" No part of that is entertaining nor attractive. I can't even stand to watch actual movies where there are rape scenes, but the new wave of hardcore porn, Christ. It's not okay, people. There needs to be more female adult movie makers or something.
1) Shaved Beaver. This is a fucking epidemic and my biggest complaint with porn and women today. Pubic hair is not unattractive nor does it have cooties! Stop shaving and looking like eight year old girls! Somewhere I went from all the girls I dated had at least a landing strip to all the girls shaving. Shit's not cute. I've tried to beg the wife to just let hers grow, but she's been convinced that's nasty and not ladylike. Fuck that. This is why 80s porn is the best, big bushy hairy beaver. When I go downstairs, I want to feel a nice soft muff under my nose, not stubble or baldness. I mean, really, that's like licking the top of a bald man's head, not eating some of the best stuff on earth and savouring the essence! Porn actresses, start growing out those bushes again! Don't be ashamed! And the worst part, if I want to see a woman with a big beaver, I have to look at hirsute porn, but then they have hairy legs, pleasure trails, bushy armpits, mustaches, all kinds of shit. It's a sad day when a woman thinks pubic hair is embarrassing.
There you have it. Eight things that have ruined pornography for me. It's time to take a stand against the shit we're getting now. We need a return to classic porn, more organic sex on film, not shit just to shock and awe. Thank you.
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