Message From a Yellow Man

Damn, it’s been a busy day. Putting the finishing touches on our 10th anniversary issue almost put me in danger of going a whole day without posting. Never that. I came back to become Blogger of the year and I want to keep this hot streak going. You know I’m on fire, you Oscar Mayer. Anyway here’s a pre-game glance at the editorial for the next issue of XXL. It may change. It may not. It’s my prerogative like Bobby Brown and his crusty-lipped-dope-head-sleepin’-on-Kool G. Rap’s-baby-mama’s-couch ass:

Follow My Lead

Yes, Junior is the best. Elliott Jesse Wilson Jr., to be right and exact. Leader of the XXL pack since September 13, 1999 and I can’t say it’s always been a smooth ride. I’ve thrown tantrums in the office. Talked reckless to my employers. Barked on a few employees. Screamed. Kicked. Thrown chairs. Hurled loose change at people. Passed out Cristal bottles as bonuses. Cut my arm open on hundreds of CD cases. I’ve cried. Been spit on. Physically threatened. Threatened to quit too many times to count. Hired many. Fired some. Lied. Manipulated. Bullied. And in spite of my confidence/arrogance have developed humility.

Time brings perspective. And I now realize that I’ve created something that’s truly bigger than me. The YN thing. This edit note. This magazine you hold in your hands. The promising website. The compilation album that didn’t sell. The Summer Jam sponsorships. All of that shit is on the resume. But most importantly it’s all impacted too many lives to count. I’m not talking about those pass-along-readership-padded sales numbers. (Seven million people aren’t reading a fuckin’ rap magazine!) I’m talking about those who’ve been in the trenches with me. The early mornings and the sleepless nights. Occasional weekends. Hard work. Dedication. Creativity. Execution. One man could never do it alone.

When I took over XXL, everyone knows what my mission statement was. And I achieved it. I thought it would take a year or two. It took a hell of a lot longer. Although it still exists as magazine, the company is now worth less than my new Brooklyn home. My adversaries were forced to go reinvent themselves. You can say it—I won. Some will say it was more about them losing. They’ll credit Jimmy, Marshall, and Curtis. Not Elliott, Vanessa and Bonsu. Well what are you gonna do? Boo hoo or boogaloo. And I rather relish in the fact that XXL is now the standard of excellence when it comes to documenting this culture.

Speaking of which…

Sorry that’s all you get. As Mr. Cent once said: “Yeah that’s it, nigga. That’s it. It’s a freestyle, what the fuck you want for free? Fuckin’ Arabs just ran the fuckin’ plane into the building. The coke price went up 10 grand this fuckin’ week.”

24 blogs in 24 hours? It’s gonna happen like a Juelz Santana/Lil Wayne album. Seriously, I ain’t gonna just throw that shit out there. I’d set date and promote the shit out of it first. Marketing, muthafuckas! Let me talk to the wife about it tonight and I’ll get back to ya. I’ll holla!