Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Their Eyes Were Watching Rod

Rappers behaving like rappers, folks. Hate to stereotype a clan I happen to be a member of, especially when I know the stereotype isn't true. But the rappers who get financed (read: pimped) by the big companies are the ones who are the most damaged/damaging, thus they are the ones who end up in the news for shit like this:

This shit doesn’t need a story at all. Had to put up 2 pics for this one. You’re seeing what some have been waiting a long time to see. Suge Knight (i know, technically not a rapper), who some would say is the real life “Debo” from “Friday” is laid out by a real life “Craig.” After a disagreement that saw Suge’s folks jump this dude, he gets up and right-hooks Suge back to 1995. Suge probably thinks Pac’s alive and he’s goin’ ahead with his plans to murder The Notori…uh, I’ma just fall back real quick. He may be knocked out, but he’s nowhere near dead. I ain’t tryin’ to get hung by my ankles from a window. (See: Suge Knight-Vanilla Ice incident.)

Electrifying conclusion: This is the cat with the unfriendly right. He's under 6 feet, under 200 lbs. Suge is 6'3", 350 lbs. How long before this guy comes out with a song about the incident?











And shit like this...

Rapstress Remy Ma’s sentencing was today. She begged the court for leniency for the sake of "my little boy," saying she grew up "surrounded by failure, violence and poverty," but "made something out of nothing" from her life. But the judge said that her friend nearly died from the two .45 slugs that Remy said were accidentally discharged from a gun into the young lady's abdomen. Rapper Papoose tried to visit her recently at Rikers Island where they planned to get married, but was booted from the island after being caught with a universal handcuff key.

Electrifying conclusion: She got 8 years. She’s now the female Shyne. It’s messed up because she is very talented, but that gunplay is nothing to play with. These rappers will be made examples of from now on. Her son will be 16 years old at the end of her sentence.




Regardless of what kind of god, deity, or universal being, entity, or force you believe in, when you visit “The Electrifying Conclusion,” I’m gonna ask you to pray/meditate with me every so often. Now don’t get all spooked on me; I know how you enlightened types feel about religion (“I’m not really religious, but I’m spiritual”), and the separation of church and blog. I’m not preaching or soliciting. I’m merely facilitating the recognition of some energy greater than us which affects all of us at all times. If you totally don’t believe in any form of greater enery/force/power outside of our lives that isn’t proven or theoreticized by science, then I assume that you still have some sense of good/bad, right/wrong, compassion, and sympathy for man(animal/plant)kind’s often challenging existence. If you couldn’t care less about anything beyond yourself, well, then you probably don’t read this blog anyway, now do you? And I’ve just wasted two sentences on your self-centered ass, now didn’t I?


Never prayed before? Here’s a headstart, a template if you will:

Thank you for waking me up this morning. Give me the energy to make this the best day of my life so far, and I promise to pay forward all of my blessings. Bless the victims of China’s earthquake, Myanmar’s cyclone, and the storms in the Midwest. Bless the homeless, poor, weak, misunderstood, used, unhealthy, persecuted and those who can’t find peace within or outside of themselves. Deliver us from evil and keep us safe and patient in the face of wickedness and temptation. (Don’t be scared to throw in a coupla requests and promises; you’d be surprised how effective this can be.)

I really wouldn’t wear pants if I didn’t have to. I find them so annoying. Ask my ol’ lady, the first thing I do when I get in the crib is take off my shoes and take off my pants. But I really hate putting pants on, it’s such a cumbersome affair. You either have to sit, crouch, balance on one leg, or lean against something to accomplish the task. You can never be as wind-resistant as you should be while wearing pants (unless you're wearing track pants, which, if you're a guy not training for the Olympics, only make you resistant to getting pussy). And they look hideous in any color besides black, blue, olive, or khaki. I blame Adam and Eve for making us realize we are naked without them. You bashful, shameful folks, you go and hide your shame – I have nothing to hide! (Hold on. That mighta came out wrong. I do have something to hide. A whole lotta something. By “nothing” I mean I have no shame to hide. ‘Cause I’m not shamed, you see. Don’t get it twisted – If I were ashamed, I would have a great deal to hide. In fact, if I were trying to hide my shame, I’d have about the length of a $5 Subway’s sandwich-amount of it to hide. Yeah. I’m talking about my penis. I’m trying to say that I have a massive penis. I was being clever. Or snarky or something like that. Because that's cool. And I'm cool. Right? Right?!)

Electrifying conclusion: Not until I searched for images did I realize that “No Pants Day” was two Fridays ago! Damn, I missed it. Anyway, this should be the new slogan for pants:

“Pants – at least they aren't kilts.”


I don’t really go to church, and I don’t really have a religion. I just know and believe. Just as sure as you believe you’re gonna get a paycheck for your work. You’re not 100% sure you’ll get your bread until you get that check. Further still, you gotta wait until you cash or deposit it to know that it’s yours. And then you have to complete a transaction to know that what you have indeed has value. That’s how prayer and meditation works for me. I believe I will benefit and then I wait for it to happen. Just like a coupla times in my life when I didn’t get a check when I thought I should have, it doesn’t always go according to my schedule. But it’s dependable enough for me to know it’s as real as this keyboard I’m typing on. Feel me?

The B.M.I.G. Prayer

This is our cross to bear. And though it may one day kill us, the irony is we can live with that. As long as when it happens, they let the record show that though we were aware of the burden, we never complained, we never asked for help or pity, and we never tried to pass it on to someone else. We shouldered. We shouldered it with the unforgivable, unbreakable, unyielding strength of black men. And we didn’t do it for ourselves, our families, or even our race. We did it for everybody. We did it for everybody.

The Artist Prayer

Though we pray for change within the souls of the wicked and the hearts of our enemies, we will continue to document the struggle, and fight the good fight, if it means moving forward. From the basses, thumps, plucks, snaps, claps, breaths, voices, pens, hearts, and minds of the inspired and weary, to the ears of the Most High – please, provide us not with the things we want, but with the things that we need. And we’ll take care of everything in between.
I'm StarPower, and I approve this message.

No comments: