Let Kanye Be Kanye!

To admire an artist means you are at times forced to defend their non-artistic antics.  To admire Kanye West,  means you’re going to do a lot of defending because for every one memorable musical moment Mr. Kardashian creates two palm-slap upside the head ones.

Kanye’s crap  used to annoy me.  Now after years of not getting it, I’m in on the joke Kanye is playing on everybody else and I approve.

I stopped watching the Grammy Awards ages ago and stopped caring who won longer than that, so I missed Kanye step onstage and scare the shit out of Beck with what looked like a Taylor Swift flashback. Nah. Just kiddin’, folks!   It was a head fake.  Kanye was holding his fire until after the show when Kanye  (aka “Yezus” or just “Ye” to his friends) unleashed a volley on Beck and he wasn’t kidding. Or maybe he was.

I’m not bothered when Kanye jacks these stupid award shows by making it all about him. If we couldn’t depend on Kanye pulling out his dick and stepping on it all we’d have to talk about is how Madonna didn’t look as old and creaky as she did in the Super Bowl halftime a few years ago. All award shows are pompous, self-important, self-congratulatory stroke fests and anyone who needs an Oscar, Tony, Grammy, or Emmy to certify their own tastes has bigger problems than another Kanye rant.

Sing ‘Loser?” Never heard of it.

“Beck needs to respect artistry and he should have given his award to Beyoncé,”

I just know that the Grammys, if they want real artists to keep coming back, they need to stop playing with us. We ain’t gonna play with them no more. “Flawless,” Beyoncé video. And Beck needs to respect artistry and he should have given his award to Beyoncé and at this point, we tired of it. Because what happens is when you keep on diminishing art and not respecting the craft and smacking people in the face after they deliver monumental feats of music, you’re disrespectful to inspiration. And we as musicians have to inspire people who go to work every day. And they listen to that Beyoncé album and they feel like it takes them to another place. Then they do this whole promotional event, that, you know, they’ll run the music over somebody’s speech, the artist, because they want a commercial advertising. Like no, we not playing with them no more. And by the way, I got my wife, I got my daughter, and I got my clothing line so I’m not going to do nothing to put my daughter at risk — but I am here to fight for creativity. That’s the reason why I didn’t say anything tonight. But y’all know what it meant when ‘Ye walked on the stage.

Am I the only one who wonders why Kanye is so protective of Beyonce and her divine right to win every award in the world and why he still gets invited to these shows?  This could all be easily avoided.  After Michael Moore pissed all over the Oscars after winning for Bowling For Columbine, the powers that be stopped nominating his documentaries. Problem solved.   Then we can get back to talking about Old Madonna.

Kanye publicly showing his ass has become as predictable as his wife baring hers. It’s what he does and if you can’t see this part him/part performance art, you’re missing the joke. Enter Shirley Manson, lead singer of the rock band Garbage,  who received much online love for delivering a succinct bitch slap to Yeezus in one devastating Facebook post.

“Hi, Kanye. A word?”

“Dear Kanye West,

It is YOU who is so busy disrespecting artistry.

You disrespect your own remarkable talents and more importantly you disrespect the talent, hard work and tenacity of all artists when you go so rudely and savagely after such an accomplished and humble artist like BECK.

You make yourself look small and petty and spoilt.

In attempting to reduce the importance of one great talent over another, you make a mockery of all musicians and music from every genre, including your own.

Grow up and stop throwing your toys around.

You are making yourself look like a complete twat.

P.s. I am pretty certain Beyonce doesn’t need you fighting any battles on her account. Seems like she’s got everything covered perfectly well on her own.”

Kanye considers himself a musical genius to be mentioned in the same breath as Stevie Wonder,  Miles Davis or The Beatles but he’s not about to wait until a decade after he’s dead to get his due.   He’s going to claim it right here and clearly he considers Beyonce and Jay-Z to be among his peers. Taylor Swift and Beck are definitely not.    Is is rude he said so publicly instead of privately?

I’m a bigger fan of Shirley than Kanye, but she was a little hard on him, after all he was only listening to the voices in his head.   “I was asked my opinion and I was given a platform. And when given a platform, it’s very hard as we know – and I’m going to talk in third person like I’m a crazy person – but it’s very hard for Kanye West to not be very true and vocal to what he feels.”

Whether driven by impulse or calculation, if Kanye is predictable at least he isn’t boring like the Grammy Awards are.  It’s like he told Rolling Stone in 2007,  “Rock stars can give their fucking opinion without having to deal with . . . what’s that thing I get dealt with every day of my life? Oh, yeah. Backlash.”


The Rules of the Writing Game

RULE #1:  Write Alone.  

Writing is like masturbation.  It’s best done in private.  It’s awkward when done before an audience.   If a spouse, significant other, roomie, or BFF ever says, “I want to watch you write.  I’ll just sit over here and be quiet,”  gently and lovingly kick their ass out.  People are noisy and noise is distracting and distracted writing is bad writing.

My writing area is in my son’s room on the home PC.   There is a window on my left shoulder and a door on my right.  The significance of the strategic placement of these objects will be made clear shortly.

I write with music.  Jazz when I’m trying to get my thoughts straight and rock when my mind is a jumbled puzzle of chaos and disorder.  And not just any kind of rock.  The the loud, brutal, head banging kind of rock.   I serve up some KornNine Inch Nails, Ministry or Rob Zombie when I need to blow the bad shit out of my brain.  This is the kind of music you wouldn’t play for your grandparents unless you didn’t like them and wanted to drive them stark, raving mad.

I don’t have a dog but if I did, I’d keep it out of the room when I’m working.   Dogs may be man’s best friend, but not when he’s lost in a thought.   Some dogs are patient and comprehend their master is busy at the moment and does not want to play catch or get licked on the face.   Other dogs don’t give a shit.  Those dogs are every bit as much of an attention whore as a Kardashian near a camera.   They gotta go.

Cats are the same way.  When they want to petted, stroked or fed, they want what they want and don’t care what you want.   If you simply must have a pet in the room limit it to a goldfish.  A goldfish doesn’t need to be walked and isn’t going to jump in your lap breathing its hot stank breath in your face. Added bonus:  If a goldfish starts bugging you, pour it down the toilet and get another one just like it tomorrow.  After you’ve finished the Great American Novel.

A window can be a distraction if you allow it to be one.  I get inspiration from the sights, sounds (and occasionally the smells) of the world outside.  If I lived in New York City I’d be overcome by sensory overload.   I won’t say it makes the work go any easier, but it can be a welcome break from the occasional grind of getting the words to line up just so.

The door doesn’t offer as much inspiration, but it does afford a certain degree of privacy.   Privacy is important when you’re writing, but I keep the door open wide enough so when others in the house pass by they realize my groans, moans and sighs are based upon frustration with how the work is coming and not satisfaction because I’m touching myself inappropriately (I did say writing was like masturbation, remember?).

Plus, if you write in your pajamas, ratty old house coat, tighty whities or butt nekkid, do you really want the rest of the world to see you looking like a red-hot mess while you’re furiously tapping away at the keyboard?

RULE#2: Writing does not require a suggestion box.

There is a terrible misconception non-writers have about writers. Or to be specific, non-writers have a terrible misconception about me as a writer. I don’t write for them. I write for me. I have no idea what I should write to please an audience, so I try to please myself and hope an audience finds it pleasing too. This is the only way I know to make it work. I’m not sure any other way does.

” Jeff, why don’t you write about (fill in the blank)?”

Oh, maybe because I don’t want to, that’s why? I’m a opinionated and informed man, but there are many things I’m not informed of and have no opinion on. Some subjects take time, research, fact-checking, verification, analysis, data-mining and just more plain hard work than a 500 word blog post can do justice to.

There are hundreds of stories I would like to tell but can’t because of a lack of time to tell it the way it needs to be told. If you can’t go all the way, why go at all? Nothing is as obvious as sloppy writing because the author cut corners, took shortcuts and generally half-assed it.

You want to know why I can’t stand Rush Limbaugh? Not just Angry White Man persona, boorish behavior and caveman politics, though that’s plenty reason enough. How can I trust someone who never says, “I don’t know.” Limbaugh always has an opinion about everything. Whether it makes any sense is not the point. Rush will always have a point whether he knows jack or shit about the subject.

Limbaugh is what my dear departed Daddy called, “smart-ass White boys. They pontificate, they pronounce and they pose when in truth not a one of them knows nuthin’ about nuthin’. How many times are writers told to write what they know? Well, what if you don’t know anything?

I’m a writer and a journalist, not a talking head, not a professional pundit and prognosticator. Whatever little credibility I have comes from knowing when to call my shot and what the game is before I do. You can’t predict the pitcher with scorch a 90 mph slider across home plate the sport is basketball, not baseball. It makes you look ridiculous and I hate to look ridiculous.

Which is another way of saying I not only write what I know, I write what I’ve learned and if I have learned nothing and know nothing, I write nothing. Case in point: Hey, Jeff! Did you see the cover of Vogue magazine with Kim Kardashian and Kanye West? What did you think about that?!

Insert vacant stare here. You can add a little drool coming from the side of the mouth to the effect.

I didn’t think anything about it. What do I care about people I’m not interested in on the cover of a rag I don’t read? Put Kimmy Cakes on the cover of Field & Stream or National Geographic if you want. I still cannot begin to tell you how many damns I do not give.

Easy reading comes from hard writing. For me, writing about the lives of the rich and for no reason famous is like being waterboarded with gasoline; It might not kill me, but I’d sure wish i were dead and put out of my misery.

People who make suggestions of what you should write do it to be helpful. I get that. They also do it because what they want you to write is probably something they want to read but lack the skill to write it themselves. That’s understandable, but seriously–go take a class or something and learn how to DIY.

There’s this quote from Bill Hicks I liked so much it’s on the header of my blog, “I don’t mean to sound bitter, cold, or cruel, but I am, so that’s how it comes out.” I’m not opposed to people making suggestions and bringing something to my attention, but I have my stuff to do and coming up with ideas of what to do next has never been a problem for me.

Rule#3: I am not a tortured artist.

The biggest load of bullshit since the fertilizer truck turned over on the freeway is this nonsense you must write everyday. Uh…and what if you don’t want to write today because you don’t have anything you want to write about? This thing about writers suffering for their craft is a total load. If writing drove me to drink, depression and despair, I wouldn’t do it. I’d learn how to crochet or take a long walk around the park on a sunny spring afternoon and synchronize my eyes checking out the pretty girls jogging. Who needs a splendid miseries in their life? Not me. I want to be taken seriously and respected, but it’s not so vital to my existence if I remain obscure, unsung and unnoticed that I’m going to jump from a great height and turn myself into street pizza. It ain’t no ways that important. Maybe in death I’ll earn the kudos I hoped would be forthcoming in life. More likely that’s not going to be the case.

Stressing out when the words on the paper or screen don’t line up as precisely as they do in my head is frustrating, but hardly a reason to torture myself. I’m a serious writer, but writing isn’t all that serious.

Writing has a therapeutic effect on me. I haven’t gone out and bought a gun because I can write out my anger. I haven’t killed any of the richly deserving bastards who so desperately need to stop breathing air because I can call them bastards in my writing. I haven’t broken the law with my deviant fantasies and violent tendencies by setting them loose on an unsuspecting world because all that dark, creepy stuff has an outlet with the power of the written word. All of us have our inner demons. Writers have found a way to pimp theirs out and make a buck off of them and it is a darn good thing we have. There would be a lot more socially maladjusted serial killers and sexual predators if they couldn’t get their ya-yas out pressed between wood pulp and selling for $25.95 on Amazon.

I am not a martyr for my art. I do not suffer silently in a life of quiet desperation. I am not a tortured artist craving your acknowledgment and pleading for acceptance. Far from it. I’m a good writer and dammit I know I am. That long dark night of the soul stuff? Been there and done that and got the T-shirt to show for it.

My confidence in my ability came the old-fashioned way: I earned it. I know what it feels like to be ignored, to be belittled and to be told in no uncertain terms you suck eggs. If you can’t cope with rejection, don’t be a writer. You won’t last because when the whole world seems as though its conspiring against your talent you got to believe in yourself. That’s the only thing that will pull you through and enable you to come out on the other side with your soul intact.

I do not suffer for my art. Far from it. I write what I like because I like writing. As Gloria Steinem once said, “Writing is the only thing when I’m doing it, I don’t feel like I should be doing something else.”

I know what she means.

Jackasses and Fame Whores

Doorknob and Doofus

Doorknob and Doofus

A few years ago affter Kanye West pulled his “Hey look at me!” stunt at the MTV Video Awards and showed up Taylor Swift no less than the President joined in the chorus of disapproval and called West, “a jackass.”

Kanye has worked very hard since to justify that put down.

The other day he said in an interview his bleached blonde bobblehead swerlie, Kim Kardashian was “more influential than Michelle Obama” and that Barack’s bunkmate, “cannot Instagram a pic like what my girl Instagrammed the other day,”

Kanye puts down Michelle Obama for not putting up pics of her sticking her butt in the camera like Kim.   Let that thought sink in for a moment.  Then laugh at the utter absurdity of a silly Negro like Kanye who actually thinks The First Lady of the United States has less going on that a brain-dead bimbo whose only claim to fame is screwing horny idiots with more jism than brain cells and making a sex tape.

Michelle Obama does not Instagram pics of her ass, Kanye.   You do understand she is the First LADY, not the First Ratchet, right?

I can’t even get mad about this.  One must pity not scorn those attempting to navigate life when they are mentally challenged.  Kanye is about to be Kardashianed and he is doing it freely and of his volition.   I’m happy for the brother.   Things have gone too good for him and he found a whole new way to mess that up.

Keep it classy, Kimmy.

The First Lady will be SO jealous.

After all Kanye is a GENIUS.  Just ask him.  He’ll tell you himself.  Of course, the “G” label gets slapped on the unworthy and the undeserving all the time.  After Lou Reed passed I read somewhere that the Velvet Underground were America’s version of The Beatles. I almost busted a blood vessel laughing so hard at that one. Critics ALWAYS want to proclaim some musician or director or writer is a “genius” based on nothing more than THEY like them.

Remember when The Knack came out with “My Sharona?” Music critics creamed their jeans over them only to find out they were just another overhyped one-hit wonder. There are landfills all over America full of records, tapes and CD’s of shooting stars that shot their wad. Kanye gets the love because the pool is so shallow and he comes off like a whale in an ocean full of minnows.   Whether he deserves the critical love is another matter.

Upon closer inspection, the brother peaked with Late Registration. Maybe Graduation, but when he dropped 808 and Heartbreak he jumped the shark with a jet-ski. The brother is running on vapors and there’s no gas stations for 100 miles.

Rappers specialize in bragging, babbling and b.s., but Kanye has completely abused the privilege.    In ten years he’ll be playing state fairs while Kimmy K. will have taken her Tasty Kakes on to the next fool.

It’s 2013 and Kanye is so far removed from “genius” status it ain’t even funny. Stevie was a genius. James was a genius. Miles was a genius. Prince was a genius. Michael was a genius. Aretha was a genius.

Kanye is a poseur with a big mouth. That’s not genius. He’s old news. Next?

As for the love of his shallow life,  If Kanye’s happiness comes from banging a talentless skank who dumped the last sucker after a sham 72 day “marriage” and will DO EXACTLY THE SAME THING to Kanye when Mama Kris gives the order, then he deserves the royal reaming he’s going to get when they extract his wallet by pulling it right out of his ass. I wouldn’t tap Kim if I were dying of a disease and the cure was stuffed up her hot dog-in-a-hallway semen dumpster.

Who wouldn’t want to be her and live the life she lives? Only any woman with class, confidence, intelligence, goals, self-respect that doesn’t want her “fame” to come from perverts rubbing one out to a video of her gobbling the nuts of some fake-ass rapper like a oversexed squirrel.

Kim Kardashian is a fame whore, a vagina on two legs and a perfectly good waste of skin.    If that makes me a sexist, I plead guilty.  She’s still been the downfall of more Black men than diabetes.

Many have theorized Kanye’s descent into self-parody coincides with the death of his mother.   Possibly, but I’m not a therapist.   However, he is wealthy enough to afford an army of good ones.   Or at least he is until Kim and Kris clean out his accounts.   Kanye should really take his own advice:  Get a pre-nup.

The Mermaid and the Moron.

Bad Taste Is Timeless

Don’t kiss her! You don’t know what’s been in that mouth (or maybe you do).

A culture built upon trash produces trashy celebrities.   It’s no longer important to have done anything worth celebrating.  What is important is how notorious the deeds are that make you a celebrity.

Tom Cruise and Kate Holmes are over.   Kanye West and Kim Kardashian have only just begun.  Jesus wept.

Some folks have taken offense to West’s new song immortalizing his chickenhead girlfriend as a “Perfect Bitch”.

I can’t imagine why this would offend anyone.    Who’s a bigger bitch than Kim K?  Who else has raised zero talent and upscale skankiness to an art form? Paris Hilton showed the world how excessive amounts of plastic surgery, a overinflated sense of entitlement, and extremely casual morals can pay off handsomely.   Kim K. raised the game to the next level.

Kim IS Kanye’s “bitch.” I’d be more offended if he called this doorknob (everybody gets a turn) a “lady.”

He could have called her a “stank-ass ‘ho” and still been right and Obama would be too when he called Kanye a “jack-ass.”

Kanye peaked right about the time of “Gold Digger” and Kim is the most popular example going of how slutty behavior and no moral compass can make you millions. As Lisa Lampanelli said, “She’s had more Black cock in her than a urinal at the Apollo Theater. “

Am I coming off as sexist?  Am I being misogynist?   No, I’m just giving it to you raw and uncut.    We were warned.  Never trust a big butt and a smile.   Some of these brothers in their mad pursuit of any White woman walking, limping, crawling, riding a bike or rolling down the street in motorized wheelchair done plumb forgot that.   They see Kim K. and start’ fiendin’ for dat ASS!

They never think about that long line of plumbers that have cleaned her pipes long before they got there.

Pretty much done with these two fools. I hope they enjoy many years and a virulent strain of herpes together.

Both of these ass clowns are narcissists and raging douchebags, but unlike Kim K.,Kanye does have some skills. At least some that can be exhibited in public. What Kim does best she can show to any healthy Black male in about ten minutes flat in a car’s backseat.

Kim has made herself infamous by her slutty behavior and sleazy willingness to do anything (and anyone) for a buck. She won’t be satisfied until she satisfies every heterosexual Black man. Everybody gets to hit that and I’m sure if I’m not particularly fussy my turn is coming up somewhere in the next ten years or so.

Chickenheads rule the world one zipper at a time.

What appalls me is how she has become a role model for girls dazzled by her fame and fortune and oblivious to how she  achieved it.  Oral sex and banging Black men as a marketing tool?   It’s made Kim and klan millionaires many times over.  It’s easy to call out Kanye for his misogyny, but why grant a pass to the bobbleheads who happily wear the crown? The men who make porn never run out of women who will get naked on camera and jump on top of strange men.  Not every pimp has to recruit his hoes. Some come running to volunteer.

You may dislike Kanye calling Double K a bitch, but if the shoe fits, she’ll slap on the kneepads, apply the Chap-Stick and suck it.

Kim K. isn’t worth defending by women who feel calling her a “Perfect Bitch” demeans her.   She’s into being demeaned.  Especially, when it gets her what she could never achieve on her own as she can’t sing, dance, act, or tell a joke.  What she can do is screw Black men and promote her own talent:  endless and relentless self-promotion.

Why would a brother whose biggest hit was a song dissing gold diggers  start swapping body fluids with the most notorious gold digger in the world?

If you fucking with this girl then you better be payed
You know why
It take too much to touch her
 From what I heard she got a baby by Busta
My best friend say she use to fuck with Usher
I don’t care what none of you all say I still love her

It’s all about the publicity, baby!   Go head baby, get down.

“Unsung,” Ugly Egos and a Superstar That Wasn’t.

"Unsung? Who me?"

I watch very little television anymore.  I’ve been getting smarter every day.  A lot of pro football, throw in some news and DVR Frontline, and I’m pretty much good.  I don’t do reality shoes, competition shows, talent search shoes and any kind of Real Basketball Skanks from Jersey Whores crap.

Television doesn’t entertain me much these days so I’ll settle for being educated.

Which is why I enjoy TV One’s Unsung.   I learn stuff.  If you’ve got a favorite R n’ B act you’ve been jonesing to find out what they’ve been up to after they fell off the charts and have been relegated to night clubs and state fairs, this is your show.   It’s about as good a Behind the Music clone can be since VH-1 killed that show off and resurrected it as an zombiefied version of the original.  .

For those whom aren’t familiar with the show, the Wikipedia synopsis will fill in the blanks.

Each episode usually begins with the upbringing of the artist within his family, painting a picture of the issues driving the artist in his adult music career. Themes of “escaping the hard-life of the streets” and “experiencing physical abuse”, as well as “signs of musical genius”, can be found in many of the lives of the subjects of Unsung. Those interviewed in this segment of the show typically are family and friends, although some are famous if the subject of the episode is an R&B group. The story then progresses into the trials and triumphs of the artist’s early days in the music business, as the artist chases his “big break” which propels him into the limelight on the way to stardom. Fellow artists / music producers / managers of that time pepper this section of the show with anecdotes of the artist’s musical prowess and potential, and also possible hints to what may have lead to the subject’s downfall. The next stage highlights the pinnacle of the artist’s fame with the perks and perils that come with it. The final part of the show details the “turning point”, in which a major incident, mainly of a tragic, health-related nature, occurred that caused the artist to put his music career on hold for an indefinite period, if not permanently.

Unsung has tailored this formula, depending on the show’s subject, to portray artists whose “turning point” occurred for more business or personal reasons, and who may have recovered from it to continue a far-less famous, but rewarding, career.

A wizard, a true star, and a total egotist

The three stories I wish they would tell are the rise and fall of Marvin Gaye, The Isley Brothers and Sly and the Family Stone and I doubt they ever will because nobody else has.   Remember a few years ago there were not one, but two Marvin Gaye bio-flicks in production, one that was supposed to star Jesse L.Martin from Law and Order?   Not ringing any bells?  Probably because they’ve been in development hell for so long we’re no closer to seeing a Marvin Gaye movie today than we were in 2008.

There are other acts I’d like to see get the Unsung treatment including Tevin Campbell, Ray Parker Jr., Angela Bofill, Mtume, Stephanie Mills, Starpoint, Karyn White, The Brothers Johnson, Stevie Woods, Atlantic Starr, and Terence Trent D’Arby,  Especially Terence Trent D’Arby.   As far as “the Next Big Thing” goes, it doesn’t get bigger than D’arby.

Ah, TTD.  Before Kanye West grabbed the crown of the world’s most arrogant pop star, the American-born, British transplanted singer was the undisputed champion of the Ugly Ego.

D’arby was good.  Real good.  His 1987 debut album Introducing the Hardline According to Terence Trent D’Arby (pompous album titles was a running theme with TTD) sold 12 million copies including a million copies within the first three days it went on sale.

At the time, TTD was being mentioned in the same breath as other superstars like Prince and Michael Jackson. It seemed like he could do everything they could and then some.  He was also something of an egotistical prick.  He was nasty to interviewers, uncharitable to his competitors and hostile to his record label.   He had a Master’s Degree in boastful braggadocio.

“I had a job writing in a weekly newspaper but after a while that got boring because I realized the people I was interviewing were far less interesting than me and I didn’t see why I should be talking to them.”

“I am a true soul genius and, unlike certain other singers, 100 per cent man.”

“I may say a lot of strange and incomprehensible things as far as other people are concerned, but that is the way of all brilliance.”

These are not the words of a man suffering from a surplus of humility.   Long before Kanye West declared himself a genius and the rest of the world had better come to accept it, Terrence Trent D’arby was letting Prince and Michael Jackson, that there was a new neo-soul sensation on the scene and he wasn’t settling for running third behind them.

Hadn’t he already proclaimed his first album was better than Thriller and The Beatles ‘ Sgt. Pepper?  TTD was here to kick pop star ass, take names and without naming Jackson and Prince, serve notice there was only one “100 percent man” on the scene and it was him, not them.

What did D’arby in was the failure to follow-up The Hardline with a sophomore effort that could approach the debut’s brilliance.   The follow-up Neither Fish Nor Flesh: A Soundtrack of Love, Faith, Hope & Destruction was a pompous, sprawling, eccentric mess that tanked without fielding even one hit song. Nobody who sings as well as D’arby and has as many ideas can be a total failure, but by into indulging his excesses, D’arby confused his audience, turned off the critics and missed his chance to solidify his status.

You can be a smug little goof and an indulgent flake, but you have to deliver when it comes time to feed the fans.  A wounded D’arby chose retreat after Neither Fish flopped and wouldn’t release another record for four years until Symphony or Damn which while not as good as The Hardline,  it’s not as terrible as Neither Flesh Nor Fish.

Instead of showing he was 100 percent man, all D’arby’s bluster, hype and b.s. proved  was the difference between a shooting star and an enduring superstar.   A star does it once and flames out.   A superstar does it over and over and even when they fall off, they have built a legacy that extends beyond one lucky hit.

D’arby came, saw and he didn’t conquer.   He didn’t even have enough successes to be a failure.  He did it once and anybody can do it once.

That’s pretty much where the story ended for Terence Trent D’arby.  Literally.  He changed record labels, cut his dreads, dyed his hair blonde and legally changed his name to Sananda Maitreya.    He still makes music on his own label and like most other Unsung subjects, claims he’s never been happier.

Riiiiiiight.  Who wants to sell millions of records and make millions of more dollars?.  Going back to bars and nighclubs to sing for your supper is so much more rewarding.

Look, I get it that it’s better to be true to yourself and have no audience than play to the audience and have no self.   I’ve been known to put the intangible of art before the commerce of being a salesman, but one of the most played, tired and unbelievable clichés is the Musician Who Has It All, Loses It All and Couldn’t Be Happier That It’s Gone.   I’m not saying it’s impossible.  I am saying not everybody is happy about it and they need to stop lying that they are.

I am not expecting Sananda to be the first.  Okay Unsung, I’ve practically written the episode for you.  Go to work.

"Man, I'm boring myself."

Stupid Black Man of the Week: Kanye West (and it’s only Monday!)

Call the cops!  Kanye is mugging Taylor!

Call the cops! Kanye is mugging Taylor!

What the hell?

MTV plays music videos?  GET OUT!  When did that happen?

I want to believe what he have here is another one of MTV’s well-known stunts, but if it was Taylor Swift looked like nobody told her.

Kanye, I know you lost your mama last year and I’m sorry for your loss, but did you lose your damn mind too?   I mean, you got Eminem saying, “That boy ain’t right.”

Forget about manners.  Where’s your good sense?   You actually ran up on Taylor Swift, a White girl that does country music, jacked the mic and started babbling about Beyonce’s video was better?    Do you have any idea how many people LOVE country music and here you are bum-rushing itty-bitty Taylor Swift?

Brutha, are you HIGH?   Oh, wait…here we go.  Sorry.  I retract that question.

Is Kanye's problem in his right hand or his left?

Is Kanye's problem in his right hand or his left?

Either Kanye is drinking too much or he’s screwing too many tranny androids like Amber Rose.  Maybe it’s both.   This man is crying out for help.  Somebody needs to stage an intervention now.

Either way, he didn’t make any new friends by showing his bitchass at the VMA’s.   Hate me now or love me now, KW?  I think I’ll hate you now.  You,  Serena Williams and Joe Wilson ought to form a band called The Whiny Ass Crybabies.

Even Kelly Clarkson thinks you suck hard.  She dropped this on your head via her blog:

Dear Kanye,

What happened to you as a child?? Did you not get hugged enough?? Something must have happened to make you this way and I think we’re all just curious as to what would make a grown man go on national television and make a talented artist, let alone teenager, feel like shit. I mean, I’ve seen you do some pretty shitty things, but you just keep amazing me with your tactless, asshole ways. It’s absolutely fascinating how much I don’t like you. I like everyone. I even like my asshole ex that cheated on me over you…which is pretty odd since I don’t even personally know you. The best part of this evening is that you weren’t even up for THIS award and yet you still have a problem with the outcome. Is winning a moon man that much of a life goal?? You can have mine if it will shut you up. Is it that important, really??

I was actually nominated in the same category that Taylor won and I was excited for her…so why can’t you be?? I’m not even mad at you for being an asshole…I just pity you because you’re a sad human being.

On a side note, Beyonce has always been a class act and proved again tonight that she still is. Go TEXAS!!

Taylor Swift, you outsell him ….that’s why he’s bitter. You know I love your work! Keep it up girl!

KC :)

At least Kelly got her hate on through her blog.  Pink and Katy Perry just nuked Kanye’s ass via Twitter.

Kanye west is the biggest piece of shit on earth. Quote me.  ~ Pink


This woman could kick Kanyes ass with no problem.

This woman could kick Kanye's ass with no problem.

Damn.  You know you got it bad when girls want to kick your ass (and in the case of Pink versus Kanye, I’m taking Pink).

For a guy who made two good albums (The College Dropout, Late Registration) and two bad albums (Graduation, 808 & Heartbreak) he sure thinks a lot of his meager little accomplishments.

Kanye isn’t the type to listen to anybody, but what he should do if he were, he should kick Amber the Tranny to the curb, hook up with Serena and both of them can go into therapy and work on their lack of maturity issues.

Why a grown man would want to stomp on stage to spoil a teenager’s big MTV moment can’t be explained and won’t be forgiven?

Kanye and Serena were locked in a steel cage death match to determine which of their dumb-asses would be the Stupid Black Man or Stupid Black Woman of the Week.

Kanye is a punk but he knows what he’s doing. Serena is just an immature loser.

But they BOTH showed their behinds.

Kanye wins based on lifetime achievement.   He just tried harder.

When Kanye quipped, “George Bush doesn’t care about Black people,” he was speaking from his heart, not his brain.   He wasn’t all right about Bush, but in the way Bush handled the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, he wasn’t all wrong either.

Well, who’s the dick now?  Even Bush can laugh at Kanye West’s continuing gross acts of stupidity.

What’s funnier than a “music” channel that stopped playing music videos years ago giving away awards for music videos they don’t play?

Who really gives a shit about a VMA?

And since the awards don’t mean dick, what’s left except find something “outrageous” that happened completely and totally spontaneously and without warning like say Sasha Baron Cohen’s ass landing in front of Eminem’s mug at the MTV Movie Awards?

If he really wanted to freak America out Kanye would have bent Taylor Swift back and shoved his tongue down her throat.  This stuff is about as genuine as a porn star’s orgasm.   So is his “apology.”

Kanye West writes a book he won’t read.

Read a book?  Im too COOL to read a book.

Read a book? I'm too COOL to read a book.

I’m a fan of a few Kanye West songs, but most eveything else about the guy annoys me, not the least of which is his mistaken belief that he is a genius.

When he said, “George Bush doesn’t like Black people” I gave him a “right on, brother,” but all that proved was even a blind squirrel can find a nut.

West’s first three albums were titled The College Dropout, Late Registration and Graduation, but apparently he’s not a fan of reading.

NEW YORK (Reuters) – Rapper Kanye West does not read books or respect them but nevertheless he has written one that he would like you to buy and read.

The Grammy Award winner, known for his No. 1 albums and outspoken statements on everything from racism in America to the banality of Twitter, is the co-author of “Thank You And You’re Welcome.”

His book is 52 pages — some blank, others with just a few words — and offers his optimistic philosophy on life. One two-page section reads, “Life is 5% what happens and 95% how you react!” Another page reads “I hate the word hate!”

“This is a collection of thoughts and theories,” West, 31, said in an interview about his spiral-bound volume, which was written with J. Sakiya Sandifer.


Woo-hoo!  Kanye West has thoughts.   Dumb thoughts.  Stupid thoughts.  Ignorant as hell thoughts, but he’s got thoughts and he wants your $10 bucks for his bullshit non-book that so weak he needed a CO-WRITER to finish it.

Kanye thinks books like this are the enemy.

Kanye thinks books like this are the enemy.

I’m saddened, but far from surprised.

Kanye West is just a symptom of a bigger disease: the glorification of stupidity and ignorance. It’s bad everywhere and worse in the Black community where speaking proper English and having aspirations beyond being a rapper, basketball player or mommy gets a kid branded as “acting White.”

It doesn’t make the evening news and nobody’s marching about it. The fact there’s a Black man in the White House hasn’t altered the fact that intelligence and accomplishment is being derided and failure and dependency is being lauded.

If you can always blame your shortcomings and setbacks on somebody else you never have to take responsibility for changing your life.

I wonder how Kanye West would respond to this:

On criticism:
“Certain people tell us that we are picking on the poor. Many of those who accuse us are scholars and intellectuals, upset that we are not blaming everything on white people as they do. Well, only blaming the system keeps certain black people in the limelight but it also keeps the black poor wallowing in victimhood.”

On raising children:
“All black parents can do right by their children, and all black children can succeed. There is no reason why not.”
“Use standard English when you have your kids together, not Black English. They’ll hear enough of that in the streets…Watch the movie My Fair Lady. All cultures discriminate against people who have not mastered the standard language, and when race is involved, it is all that much harder for a nonstandard speaker to feel competent or even at home in the culture.”

On the media:
“Some of the most negative images of African Americans on TV and in the movies seem to be the most popular among young people—black and white. With both good and bad media out there, you have to help select media for kids that will support their successes and suppress their urge to give up or drop out.”

On black men:
“Gangsta rap makes our young people tough, but not so tough they can walk through prison walls. It can jazz them about sex, but it can’t begin to make them a good father. No matter how often, or how publicly they grab their crotches, crotch-grabbing isn’t even going to get them a bus ride downtown.”

“When all is said and done, the black child is our future. It’s time for us men to think of the future, to straighten out our acts, to say to ourselves, I am more interested in raising my child than any other issue I had before. I’m going to behave or get help, but it’s about the child. No matter how useless or hopeless a father may think he is, his role is simply to be there. If he makes that commitment, he is a much better man than he thought he was.”

On “victimhood”:
“Sometimes people with a victim mentality feel hopeless and do self-destructive things that make their lives even worse. It is time to redirect that energy. It is time to think positively and act positively. Black communities and families must provide our youth with the love and guidance that keeps them strong and on that positive path. Blaming white people can be a way for some black people to feel better about themselves but it doesn’t pay the electric bills.”

~ Come On People: On the Path From Victims to Victors by Bill Cosby and Dr. Alvin Poussaint.

No matter if you voted enthusiastically for Obama or with equal enthusiasm against him or sat it out entirely, the election of an educated, intelligent and articulate Black man was a huge setback for the forces of ignorance, apathy and stupidity that are waging war against African-Americans. But they’re not giving up easily and they aren’t going away anytime soon.

If Kanye were interested in being part of the solution instead of perpetuating the problem he would celebrate, not denigrate reading and the possibilities it opens up for those whom embrace it.

I would hope at some point when he isn’t so immature, self-centered and shallow he would look back at some of the things he has said and done and stop acting like a ignorant child and become a wiser man.

Ever hear of Native Son,  I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, The Color Purple, The Autobiography of Malcolm X, or Invisible Man, Kanye?   No, those aren’t titles of rap songs.  Those are books and if you were so stupidly wallowing in your ignorance, you might know how vital and important great literature is to any society’s culture.

Maybe someone will tell Kanye what Cosby and Poussaint are saying since it’s not likely he’ll ever read it himself.

Kanye doesnt know Prince Harry and Diddy are laughing at his glasses.

Kanye doesn't know Prince Harry and Diddy are laughing at his glasses.