Mos Def’s verse in Two Words is one of the best examples of lyrical control I know. Period.

Two words,
United States,
no love,
no breaks
Low brow,
high stakes,
crack smoke,
black folks
Big Macs,
fat folks,
ecstasy capsules
Presidential scandals,
everybody MOVE
Two words,
Mos Def,
K West,
hot shit
Calm down,
get back,
ghetto people,
got this
Game ball,
lock shit,
dump off,
cock shit
We won’t
stop shit,
everybody MOVE
Two words,
BK , NY,
bed stuy
Two hard,
too hungry,
too many,
that’s why
These streets
no game,
can’t ball,
don’t play
Heavy traffic,
one lane,
everybody MOVE
Two words,
Mos Def,
black chap,
hot shit
Calm down,
get back,
ghetto people,
got this
Game point lock, long pump cocked
We won’t stop, everybody MOVE

As a general rule, I don’t fool with Politics because I think it’s a sham. While I recognize the importance of large structural bodies organized with the intention of some action, the political process, at least as I’ve come to know it in my adult life, is little more than a popularity contest. Ideas matter, but they seem to be viewed through the lenses of charisma, looks, and financial backing. What’s more, to the extent that ideas are exchanged, they tend to be padded in obfuscation, misdirecting innuendo, and sometimes outright lies. I have no patience for politicians who deliberately misrepresent their opponents, or even worse, who are technically accurate with their information, but dispense the information in such a way that it makes it seem that what is ain’t, what wasn’t could’a been, and what could possibly have been under the most obtuse circumstances is most likely. Having said all that, I can’t even lie. Obama’s candidacy has my curiosity piqued.

Now don’t get it twisted, he’s still a politician, so as a matter of function, I suspect his motives even when he says something like ‘grass is green,’ but I am kinda intrigued by the viability of his campaign so far. As many people have noted, he seems to represent somewhat of a break from the old, established political regimes. Not too much of a break, mind you, because he is in the two-party system, but even if he’s really not that different, he seems different. But I guess that all depends on what perspective I’m looking from. If I looked out of Republican lenses, I doubt he’d seem too much different than any of his party mates.

Of course, the bottom line question is, if he gets his party’s nomination, would I vote for him. Honestly, I can’t say that I know yet. Since I think the level of sincerity in politics is about equivalent to that of a game show, I treat them about the same. If somebody Black is on there, I might look with a little more interest for a little longer, but ultimately what’s going on on the screen has a limited impact on my life. Politics is more significant than The Price Is Right, but only rarely is that impact felt directly.

Holy smokes! The whole month of January is almost gone, and I haven’t even done a playlist. What’s really good?

Crown Royal - Jill Scott
The Reds - The Ohio Players
Wu Tang: 7th Chamber (Pt. 2) - The Wu-Tang Clan
Bluesette - Ray Charles
I Got Cha Opin (Album Version) - Black Moon
My Love - Pleasure
Tryin’ Times - Donny Hathaway
You Talk Too Much - Run-D.M.C.
Vibes and Stuff - A Tribe Called Quest
Adrenaline - The Roots
Go Away From Here - Mutiny
Wah Wah Ma - Young Holt Unlimited
You Are My Starship - Norman Connors
Vertical Interlude - AMG
Cleva - Erykah Badu
Da Ill Out - Redman, f. Erick Sermon, Keith Murray, Li’l Jamal
Practice What You Preach - Soul Sliders

One of the externalities of coaching is that my dozens game has gone back to being absolutely insane. Because I’ve spent most of my time working with adults, I had fallen off a little bit. Coaching is a little more informal than the classroom, though, so at first, certain things used to slip out. Like the one kid I accidentally nicknamed “Porno” because every time he hit the mat, he used to make this whiny groan. That was one instance when I regretted it as soon as I’d said it, but nicknames like that have tremendous sticking power. I don’t call him that any more, and I try not to let anybody else call him that, although that gets to be challenging.

For the most part, I try to stick to things the kids can control. With Porno, for instance, the reason I felt bad about joning on him that way was because he’s essentially a nerd trying to become an athlete. He’s never competed in any sport in his life — probably didn’t even go hard in gym class, so I really don’t want to rag on him about wrestling. Actually, in cases like his, I don’t jone much, period. However, when I do, I try to keep it to something that’s almost entirely in the student’s control: the hair. “It’s time for a shape-up” jokes are hard to beat. Oh. And there’s a clutch of Ethiopian boys who jumped out the cake and started rocking jheri curls. JHERI CURLS!! I HAD to get ‘em. One of ‘em actually got the nerve to have that little corkscrew curl in the front of his face. I couldn’t even cap on him. I just laughed out loud.

Course, the good thing about going on the hair line is that they have the chance to get back at me. My hairline isn’t in a full recession, but when I cut my shape-up, I hafta push it back a little bit. They notice it, too. The last time I cut all my hair off was when I had made a mistake on my part. I could’ve battled it out, but that would’ve been giving up far too much ammunition.

One thing I’ve noticed, though, is that a lotta times, when the kids jone, it’s stuff that doesn’t actually make any sense. For me, the joke can only work if there’s some grain of truth that makes it make sense. They’ll jump out with some, “He look like [insert random cartoon character.]” and then look at me like I’m crazy when I don’t laugh. (They know that I don’t watch television, so they already think I’m a little crazy, as it is.) That’s when I tell em, that’s not a good joke because it’s not specific to the person. Which is when I hafta model what bustin’ looks like for them.

And the first tournament I ever wrestled in turned 23. I went 1-2 and did not place.

In watching the movie, A Soldier’s Story (for the 25th time), I’m once again struck by Sergeant Waters. While his treatment of C.J. Memphis was certainly despicable, there’s a part of me that understands where he was coming from. Being that I self-identify as the “chitlins, collard greens, cornbread style,” I obviously don’t agree with that piece of Waters’ philosophy, but the idea that there are certain elements that the Black race can’t afford doesn’t seem entirely off. As I’m wont to say, it ain’t right, but it ain’t exactly wrong.

In a way, though, I guess that makes me wonder whether there is a Black race. ‘A’ meaning one. As in the antithesis of the phrase I picked up from Zora Neale Hurston, “my skinfolks but not my kinfolks.” Not too long ago, the idea was posited that people of my generation and younger are increasingly starting to see the fissures in the Black “community” as permanent, to the extent that some people would actually redefine Black folks as separate races. Personally, I don’t know if I’d go that far with it. I certainly think that there are different cultures within Black America, but to suggest that there are different Black “races” seems to hyperbolize to the point of losing a very important idea. I suppose, however, that since race as we know it is in large part a social construct with some points of biological basis, one definition is just as good as any.

Bearing that in mind, would a 2008 Sarge be content with exiling those he saw as unfit to a different “race” than himself, would he be more interested in physical separation, or would he still be looking to personally destroy them? And as a counter question, if we know that certain elements within our community do, in fact, behave in ways that are detrimental to our community, then at what point are we complicit in our own destruction because we DON’T react like Ol’ Sarge?

Just wonderin.

I don’t think I mentioned the Mayweather-Hatton destruction last month, but I did watch it. I actually watched both of Pretty Boy Floyd’s fights last year. The first one wasn’t so impressive, but I couldn’t even front on him last month. He was good. And he won me some money. I had bet on a KO in 11, so I won the dough. Good times all around.

Of course, the best part about a Mayweather fight isn’t the fight, or even Mayweather himself. Personally, I find the “money” persona to be borderline insufferable. Naw, the best thing about a Mayweather fight is the older Mayweathers, Floyd Sr. and Roger. To hear them talk is a thing of beauty.

As people who know me know (and if you don’t, you can look down a couple posts and see the breakdown on ass-compounds), I’m particular to AAVE, particular the more…spicy version. At one time, my favorite word in the world was “motherfucker,” and even though that’s not necessarily the case any more, it still has a special place in my heart. Bearing that in mind, it’s only natural that I love to listen to Big Floyd and Uncle Roger. Number one, because they’re SO vulgar with it, but number two, because of their cadence. They, like the late Robin Harris, say the word the way it’s supposed to be said.

All that notwithstanding, Big Floyd had some…interesting comments on Li’l Floyd’s potential foray into mixed martial arts from an interview at fighthype.com. (If you’re linguistically sensitive, stop NOW!)

“He ain’t got to worry about retiring. When they get through with his ass, he will be retired. He will be retired fucking with them motherfuckers. They would love to fight him. This ain’t no fucking boxing; ain’t none of these motherfuckers scared of his ass. I’ll fight one of them motherfuckers if they just want to throw their guards up. I’m old and I’ll beat they ass, but when they start talking about that going to the ground, elbows and knees and all of that, man fuck that shit. I ain’t about to go in there. Them motherfuckers dangerous man. One thing about it, them guys can take a fucking punch man. Those guys will laugh at Lil Floyd when he hit them.”

If a person’s gonna cuss, they should model after Big Floyd and Uncle Roger. Seriously.

We all knew about Billy Preston and the B3, but I ain’t know he could get down like this!