BLOG: Barack Obama Still Gots No Love For Hip-Hop?
Congratulations on the victory, Mr. Obama. Welcome to Ronnie’s World.
“‘There really only needs to be one star in Grant Park, and that’s Barack,’ an Obama insider told Zwecker. ‘There will be plenty of time for a new President Obama to be surrounded by famous fans, all hopeful about a new administration.’” –Barack Obama’s People (Ha), Chicago Sun-Times via XXLMag.com
As has been the case throughout Barack Obama’s campaign, the rapster collective was persona-non-grata as Shawn “Jay-Z” Carter and Sean “Diddy” Combs headlined a lengthy list of blacklisted entertainers for last night’s Source Awards—I mean, World Negro Victory Party.
Through an impenetrable fortress of standard Chinese restaurant-issue bulletproof glass, President-Elect Obama thanked his supporters and detractors alike for voting him “That Nigga 2008.” On hand for the historic moment were Queen Winfrey I and Rev. Jesse Jackson, who cried like he’d finally gotten hold of Mr. Obama’s coveted nuts.
I think we all got a little bit of the teabag last night, Jesse--some more than others.
[Blogger’s Note: Grown-ass mens don’t play that “no homo” shit.]
So, let me get this shit straight. Barack the Vote wanted to be the only star present, yet CNN was able to provide 7-minute coverage of Oprah Winfrey and “Hymietown” Jackson crying on white folks’ shoulders?
I understood Obama’s need to distance himself from controversial figures--such as actual black people--during his campaign. Association with the likes of Puffy, Jeezy and Soulja Boy could have been enough to turn even Chuck D to the McCain/Palin ticket. I don’t understand why they can’t be present once the convincing’s been done, though. Jesse Jackson got an invite to the jawn, and the last public statement of his I can recall had to do with crushing Barack’s baby mama makers between his teeth.
At least that’s what I think he said. He was mumbling.
As soon as I saw Jesse’s ass there, I scanned the landscape for Marion Barry and Kwame Kilpatrick thinking, “Shit. It must be that type of party.” Later, I get wind of some Bill Zwecker piece noting that Jigga, Diddy, Mary J. Blige, Susan Sarandon, Nuke Laloosh and Ben Affleck were sent memos to stay their famous, whiny bleeding-heart-liberal asses the fuck home.
Presidential negro, please. I see how it is. Puffy and Jigga can do everything in their power to assure you the ever-important new vote [read: young nigga/former jail nigga vote] that turned an expected victory into Knicks at Celtics--they just can’t take a flick with you when it’s done.
All a hood nigga really want is a flick. We just wanna be in the damn video when it come out.
When I played ball, our boosters didn’t always get to attend the games, but they damn sure were present to see us raise that banner at school—preferably wearing that fresh Men’s Wearhouse gear they blessed our mamas with.
I see how it is. Rapsters can campaign for a YN, but they can’t sit at the celebration table. I’ll remember that next time I throw my endorsement behind a candidate in the future. I don’t know about Diddy and Puffy, but I’ll be the nigga making a scene at the door like Keyshia Cole’s moms.
Call me Ronnie F. Baby. Fuck it.
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