and ya don't stop
i wish i could give you this feeling, or, (asinine) reasons why i think the brown v. the board of education of topeka, kansas decision should be reconsidered and/or repealed.
(if you continue to read, don't say you weren't warned.)
last night, the mad rapper (aka nahmix) and i went to see our fave emcee, common rock out the hob for the eighth time in the last sixth months (that is only a slight exaggeration). and, as usual, the show made me realize that though i'm often disenchanted by it, mourn the loss of it, etc., etc. i will always in some way lightweight fuck with hip hop. which, i suppose, also means that 25 years from now nahmix and i will still be at the hob mad early trying to get good position in front of the stage at our 500th the roots concert. but i digress.
now don't get me wrong, i know hip hop ain't mine no more. in fact, it never really was "mine"; certain things you can't possess. though i miss and occasionally lament the loss of h.e.r. with incoherent and seemingly sempiternal diatribes about it all, i'm pretty much "over it" (not really). despite my healing, i'd like to take a moment to make following commentary.
see here's the deal. there is a short list of acts i will (pay to) see in concert; there are hip hop acts on this list. therefore, i will be in attendance at some hip hop shows. since hip hop is youth music, american music, __(insert bullshit here that deniggafies hip hop in all ways except the mad ignorant and problematic ones)__, i understand the crowd will not look like me. in fact, there will be a slew of white girls (and asian girls, and "black" girls suffering from hbs) in the muhfuckin' house. since i am an ignorant-ass snob with a chip on her shoulder, as a general rule, i don't think such folks should be allowed within 500 feet of the venue. since this is merely a pipe dream, i understand that i must come up with a plan b. therefore, as a public service to myself and people like me, below i've provided a list of guidelines for these hoes when attending rap shows. please keep in mind ladies, these do not simply make my concert-going experience more tolerable, but it will further enhance yours, as i will not smack the shit of you because i find you and your friends absolutely insufferable.
- friends don't let friends drink at hip hop concerts. listen, i know there's a bar. and i know you got the plastic to open a tab. but please, keep the beverages non-alcoholic. see, i assume you haven't noticed this, but the more you drink, the whiter you get. that bothers me, because you start swinging your stringy ass hair everywhere, and fucking screaming that "woo hoo" shit at the top of your muhfuckin' lungs right into my left ear. and if there's anything i hate more than hearing that one white girl voice so many of you have (seriously, where do you learn how to talk like that?) it's hearing your paroxysms of excitement while i'm tryin' to ignore how "hot" you think mos def is.
if there ever was a moment for me to just want someone to shove some exotic, black dick into your mouth this is one of them.seriously, bree, if you keep this shit up, you're coming out of that halter top (uh, dude, i know it's uncharacteristically "warm," but it is february in chicago), and it's not for a girls gone wild video.
- i'm tryin' to catch the beat. um, look, a hip hop concert is not a spectator sport. therefore, it is imperative that you learn to clap, snap, sway, move on the 2's and 4's, and not on the 1's and 3's. by doing so, you will (temporarily) have what black people like to call rhythm. please note: this does not mean you can dance. it just means that when the emcee or hype man is moving the crowd, you're not swimming against the current. if you learn rhythm and how to mirror the nigga onstage, you will not spill that vodka and red bull--which i told you not to get in point number 1-- on your or my arm. i suggest a pre-concert practice with your black friend monica/danielle/meka (hey, sometimes ghetto names make it to suburban black chicks). though she asked to borrow your blue eye shadow, chances are there's enough fried chicken grease left in her dna for her to have rhythm. (unless, of course, she and her asian sister were adopted by the same white family. basically, if you and monica/danielle/meka use the same hair products, she can't help you.) keep in mind: if you're instructed to bounce, don't listen. you just stand still. you look stupid. in fact, i have a question: do you ever look in the mirror when you dance? maybe if you did, you wouldn't.
- you are neither brandy, nor 4 flat tires. everyone knows your backpacker and/or black boyfriend wanted to come to this show, and you only came because you knew there would be other, white, stringy-haired, halter-topped, drunk out of their fucking minds chicks like you around. look, man, even if he is black, your boyfriend's credibility is prolly in question for a variety of reasons--trust, he's prolly no hip hop cognoscente (quiet shout out). so... don't try to be down. we understand your knowledge of "old skool" hip hop to be "nuthin' but a 'g' thang," "california love," and "bust a move." thus, there is no need to oprah** to what the dj is spinning. thanks.
- ready to wear. don't try and dress the part. you look fucking ridiculous. e'rybody sees the blonde streaks under that kangol. we know you consulted your black boyfriend's sister regarding your outfit for tonite. (btw, she can't stand your ass.) though kimora lee simmons thanks you for your valiant effort, an abercrombie and fitch baby tee similar to the one you wore to coyote ugly yesterday night would've been perfectly fine to rock to the show. btw, i'ma shoot whoever sold you those red, black, and green wristbands.
that is all.
**oprah: v. to lip-sync very badly.
oh...an actual entry about this most recent rumor will be up tomorrow.
language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. language alone is meditation. ~toni morrison