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Them Crackers Gon’ Act Like I Ain’t On They Ass


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With each passing day, the frequency with which I question you children’s ability to read increases exponentially. I mean, seriously. I’m surprised you lobotomy candidates could even find this post, what with the front page redesign and all.

And you wonder why your real parents cry every time they see you(a).

Anyhoo, as is becoming my custom, I must say fuck Jive Records. There’s really nothing new to report. I just thought I’d say fuck them, anyway. So, yeah: fuck Jive Records.

And I’m not putting the great “Wamp Wamp” controversy of ’06 on Skateboard P’s head. Or Foxy’s ears. Or Jay’s corporate gulliness. Sometimes these things happen. And if you children don’t manage to kill yourselves while opening a pack of Ramen noodles, you may live long enough to learn that life does not exist in binaries(b).

Speaking of black and whyte, I guess it’s time to visit everyone’s favorite topics: race and class. Oh yes, you degenerates. I’m going there, again.

If you can’t tell, I’m bored this week.

At any rate, I’d like to start things off by saying that I actually liked Blender magazine at one point—kinda, sorta. And I learned many a thing from the Jewish comedian who served as my editor over there. But some time ago, the magazine wrote a faux story on a non-existent rapper. Said story featured “quotes”(c) from the likes of Skateboard “Wamp Wamp” P, Ghost “Face” Killah, Juelz A. Santana and Angie “insert name of ghostwriter here” Martinez. It was even co-signed by some people who should know better.

Apparently, Blender thought this was funny. And, according to the letters page of their latest issue—full of the useless lists, pop punk rock coverage, hipster lite-isms and soft porn that has become their hallmark—they still do(d).

Me, personally, I think they’re just making fun of what people such as myself do to pay the rent, buy loosies and new Adi’s. Maybe I’m just being sensitive(e).

Mind you, I like the idea of fooling internet nerds into searching high and low for a non-existent rapper just as much as the next guy. But not when it comes from a group of people who seem to have little respect or understanding of the lifestyle that they belittle, word to Clyde Smith(f). It all strikes me as a bit hipster-ish. Because, that is, after all, what hipsters do.

And it happens that most hipsters are whyte.

Not that all whyte people are hipsters. Some of them are just straight wiggers. And there’s a cultural war going on between these two factions, all revolving around the proper take on negro culture(g). They both suffer from the same sense of entitlement, it’s just that hipsters think it’s cool to mock the darkies whereas wiggers just emulate them wholesale. Where wiggers will know more about Rawkus than I do, hipsters know nothing. They’re just happy to get into something that no one else is up on, thereby making them somehow superior(h). Once the rest of us “discover” the band, sound, or flavor of Fruit Roll-Ups, it’s all, “They were better before they blew up,” “I like their early stuff,” etc., which is really just code for, “Now that people who actually have a reference for this stuff have showed up, it’s time for me to hightail it to the next ‘undiscovered’ regional sound.”

The results? The comeuppance of bad Houston rap, the crucifixion of M.I.A. and, on the horizon: Spankrock!

(Somewhere in the mix is an extremely entertaining and sweetly vicious minx of new artist named Lily Allen, who must have gotten wack once her album dropped. But don’t let that stop you.)

But within this sea of whyteness there are shades of grey(i), resulting in anti-hipster hipsters, wigger-hating whyte boys, a few genuinely cool indiviuals and the types of cowards who would never say the n-word, but seem to go out of their way to quote rap lyrics that use it(j).


I have no point. But chew on that shit for a while, you goddamned crackers(k).

TMW: Ten reasons why SOHH sucks donkey balls. (I’m sure there’s more, but I’m not that bored.)


(a) You’re a bunch of fuckin’ ingrates. And, sadly, you despoilers of logic give my life meaning.

(b) That’s the second lie they teach you; the first one is “God.”

(c) And I actually do that little thing with my fingers when I say “quotes.”

(d) Note to any of you reading: You can take me off the comp list anytime you want, you know. I’m good. From what I hear, Vibe will be worth reading again soon.

(e) This may come as a shock to you children, but I have often been accused of wearing my heart on my sleeve. That’s me, just a ball of unbridled emotion.

(f) You can also stop e-mailing queries about young negro fashion, thank you very much.

(g) How’s that for irony?

(h) Not unlike the children who claim “first!” on comment pages all across les internetes.

(i) Remember what I said about binaries, you small-minded twits.

(j) I’m looking at you, Tom Breihan.

(k) Because, as we all know—my well-documented penchant for whyte meat aside— I’m a racist.

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