The Passion of Remy Ma
“I used to be one of those people that watched the news and bought the newspaper everyday and believed that everything that I was seeing and reading was true; up until the point where I ended up in their reports in a negative light. Now I only read the papers for the horoscopes and the comics and I only watch the news for the lottery numbers. They couldn’t even get my name or age right, more less the color of my vehicle that was right behind them parked in front of the precinct. Many reporters get their information at 4th, 3rd, 2nd hand at best. They’re at liberty to word a headline however they see fit in order to sell the highest number of papers but rarely do they take a moment to stop and think that this is someone’s life that they’re tampering with, someone with a family, someone that might have children.
Since I’ve been incarcerated, I’ve managed to do something I think I would’ve never done or made the time to do at home. I read the entire Bible from Genesis page one to Revelation page 2,117. In the Gospels, they tell you how Jesus Christ who gave sight to the blind, helped the cripple walk, healed lepers, and fed thousands of people from a couple of loaves of bread was put on trial just because people didn’t like him. They made up stories, they accused him of things he didn’t do and all the while he proclaimed his innocence. None of the people he ever helped came forward on his behalf and those closest to him turned their backs on him, they even had an annual festival where they agreed to let one prisoner go and the people chose to let a known murderer go free over Jesus Christ. He was eventually found guilty and killed. So if that’s how they treat the Son of God, who are we? That right there gives me the strength to hold my head high everyday and I can honestly say I’m doing okay.”
So when Remy Ma dies, will it be just like that time when Jesus died? It might be. I remember when Remy psychologically healed the lepers by making them feel beautiful with her music videos.
[Blogger’s Note: For those of you who don’t know, the Bible is divided into individual sections known as “books” with chapters and verses. You can’t look for shit by page number, as Remy suggests above.]
I first got wind of this niggerishness during my daily rummage through the Big Green trashcan. Of course, I didn’t initially find it on Global Grind itself because if I wanted ignorant-ass Simmons propaganda, I’d just watch Run’s House… or maybe rent Krush Groove.
The SOHH headline had me stoked enough. Here I am like, “Oh shit. Remy Ma used to believe everything she saw on TV and read in the paper? That explains why she’s in the fuckin can.” Then I saw her blame the media for being in the can, as if some New York Post writer tried to keep it extra real on a bitch and pinned a weapon on her. Next thing you know, rappers are gonna start blaming bloggers for their own stupidity.
It’s not me. It’s the media!
You shouldn’t be surprised that this woman only reads the newspaper for Marmaduke and lotto results, then reads the Bible and thinks she’s Jesus. We all know Jesus would have come up with that ingenious skeleton key plan she and her awesomely alphabetical brutally brolic conjunctivitis carrier husband tried to pass over.
[Blogger’s Note: Awesome at articulation. Aesthetically apathetic. Bland banal bourgeoning backdrop. Black baboon. Calamity comes coldly. Coons clamor crack cocaine chants. Downing DJ dick. Damn. Diddy didn’t dance? Emanating effort. Even Ether eschewed. Fuck Finding Forrester! Feeling faint from fumes. Great Gatsby! Goofy gump got good grades. Gangster gonads gobbled. His heavy hypeman houndin him. Intelligent? Indubitably. Interesting? I just jotted jilted jawing. Jesus. Kay Slay’s knocking kills kosher Potassium level. Leave Lazarus loaded. Love lickin lotus. Murdering midgets. Mexico mainly make magic. Meaning my mind mitigate majesty. Maroon mattress. Mussolini my main man. Nigga need new nuances. Nobody ordering old ostentatious offerings. Overtime probably played Pap’s pious progress. Peep pimps pocketing player profits. Quickly question quantity. Quitting quiescent qualities. Read robotic rubbish. Ronaldinho reaps something. Seventy-seventh sitting. Seems song’s stuck severely. Slay still sucks scrotum. Tyranny tries teething. Think this tactician thumbing that thesaurus? Talented underwriter unveiling uncharted urchin vaginal. Viscous vicious victor. Visine, Viagra, Valvoline. Vindictive video wreaker. Weak wannabes won’t welcome. X-rays, xylophones. Yes, you’re yellow. You zebra.]
Niggas been knowin I’m nice with these. But I digress. Where was I?
Oh, yeah. After Remy and Pap did the whole inmate marriage thing and tried a skeleton key escape, I just knew we were in for some fun with these two. I just thought someone near and dear to the couple would just lobby for a shitty Negro Channel reality show. Maybe Remy’s prophecy in blog form is a new wave pilot or something.
If this isn’t building up to a pilot, then we might be looking at a god complex bigger than Oprah’s and Jay-Z’s put together… for as long as Global Grind interns publish [and write] her blogs. If they do, I can’t wait to hear what other healings and words of wisdom she has in store for us.
Reverend Run better watch his ass. Nigga might be officially jobless soon.
Questions? Comments? Requests? You can find some amazing shit in a big green trashcan… err, recycling bin? email@example.com
[Addendum: I guess the god complex ain’t nothin new.]
In case any of you devout followers are wondering, the edict underneath Her Holiness reads “Y’ALL BITCHES WORKIN ON Y’ALL ALBUMS GO BACK TO THE STUDIO IMMEDIATELY”