Judgment Day

Tupac believed that only God could judge us. Well, it’s a good thing he’s dead (Pac, not God), because this past weekend I was judging like Greg Mathis let loose on 26th and California, except I was doing it at a speech tournament in the middle of Corn Country. Here’s how it worked: For 10 bucks a round, I—guided by my lackluster credentials and finite widsom—got to decide which speakers would advance to the next stage of life.

My morning started out with a round of informative speeches. Here, I learned about robot fish, a home-made heroin substitute, and how to use of urine as an alternative energy source. As I ranked these speakers, I thought: Yeeeeah, if Pac were here, I’d judge the thug outta him. Then I thought the same thought in Spanish. But then I backed off because I thought Pac’s ghost might rip my face off, write thugmatic poetry on the back of it, and sell it as previously unreleased material.

While my first round of speeches was familiar territory, the next event (in which speakers recited dramatic stories) was completely new to me. Not having any idea of what criteria to evaluate these speakers on, I did what any good judge would do: I acted like I was listening and oathed to myself that I would name my first newborns “Thurgood” and “Ito.”

Next up was the extemperaneous round. Speakers had to prepare a persuasive speech on a topic given to them only 30 minutes prior. Subjects included politics, politics, and the decline of tourism in Portugal—things that I deeply care nothing about.

Today I shared my recent judging experience, provided some insightful observations based on that experience, and demonstrated my unconditional luv for Tupac. The day was also filled with tons of puns and a 2-star hotel, but a judge-l-man never tells all.

An Open Cover Letter to Lil Wayne

July 30, 2010

Dwayne Carter
Best Rapper Alive
Eric M. Taylor Center (AKA jail)
10-10 Hazen Street
East Elmhurst, NY 11370


To Mr. Carter:

I am writing to apply for the Young Money Associate Fan position posted on Yahoo! HotJobs. My interest in this position is based on the following objectives:

1. To aid Young Money Entertainment in providing the highest quality music imaginable
2. To further my career in educational publishing

As a practiced fanatic, I have the background and skill set that is necessary to support your record label’s positive image during your prison sentence. Key qualifications for my candidacy include an online certification in Youth and Money Studies, experience commenting on YouTube videos, and an overall mastery of the entire fanatic process.

In addition to 2 plus years of accomplished zealotry, I also possess the killer instinct to ‘penser de façon originale' (that's French for 'think outside de box'). As an Intern Fan for Gucci Mane, I Simpsonized an image of Gucci and made it available on CafePress. This idea alone generated a bottom line revenue increase surplus of $26.70 for the Gucci Mane/OJ da Juiceman 32 Entertainment estate.

If that's not convincing enough, know that I own five variations of the “FREE WEEZY” t-shirt, and I wear them all the time as a testament to you being the political prisoner of our generation. I even have a tattoo with your name across my chest, and my girlfriend is jealous because I talk about you 24/7.

Weezy F Baby, I am confident I can help you, Drake, Nicki Minaj, and that other guy continue to be on every single song on the radio. Please contact me to discuss this in more detail.

Thank you for your consideration. I look forward to hearing from you.

Young Money 4EVR,
Meta Physics

P.S. I think I’m an alien too!

My Interview with Tavis Smiley

Bad news. The tape of my interview with Tavis Smiley was stolen before it could air. Thank goodness for transcripts...

TAVIS SMILEY: Good evening from Los Angeles. I'm Tavis Smiley. Tonight, we continue our "Brilliant Minds" series in a conversation with up-and-coming gospel music sensation Meta Physics. Meta, we first met a couple years back at an inspirational music convention in San Diego. You've come quite a ways since. A top-selling debut album, televised concerts—what can we expect from you next?

META PHYSICS: I gotta new album coming soon, very soon. I’m just waiting for Dr. Dre to finish up ‘Detox’ so we can go head-to-head in first-week sales. Music been hurtin', so him and I decided to bum rush all your ear holes at the same time. Drake was supposed to be in on it too, but dude got scared.

TAVIS: And I hear you’re taking some cues from Ice Cube?

META: Yeah, we just starting working on a movie project together.

TAVIS: What's the film going to be about?

META: Well, Cube wanted some 'Are We There Yet?'' remix thing, but I convinced homeboy that we should go for something less risky and more familiar. So instead, we wrote a classic coming-of-age tale of a grocery clerk who decides to become a hitman.

TAVIS: Speaking of hits, some aspects of your work are arguably hardcore and uncharacteristic of gospel music. Case in point, the EP you released last year is an entire record dissing Kirk Franklin and God’s Property. The gospel genre is not usually known for producing public feuds amongst its artists. What made you decide to go this route? And why Kirk Franklin?

META: The Lord guided me this way. Kirk Franklin and I used to be tight. He’s the one who got me an audition on Sunday Best. But then he started creepin’ on my girl Roxanne Roxanne. He’d tell her that I wasn’t about positivity in the community and all this other stuff that just wasn’t true. So I was like, you steppin’ on my game, Imma step on yours. Eye for an eye—just like the Good Book says. That’s when I hollered at my man Michael Eric Dyson for some of that motivating epistemological apartheid fire.

TAVIS: But you and Kirk Franklin are both gospel artists. Doesn't this feuding run contradictory to the popular messages of the genre?

META: T, I bring the church to the streets. Plus, as a man of God, I have a responsibility to these kids.

TAVIS: Can you elaborate on this responsibility?

META: Uknowhutimsayin’.

TAVIS: Not entirely, but you mentioned that you worked with Michael Eric Dyson, a friend of mine. Are there any guest appearances or collaborations on the new album?

META: Yeah, Dave Hollister is on the album. Fred Hammond. And then I’ve got a church banger with Spice 1, Justin Bieber, and Swizz Beatz.

TAVIS: That’s quite a diverse roster. Might your efforts of musical amalgamation come from your upbringing as a jazz man? As I understand it, you’re closely connected to Chano Pozo, the great Latin jazz percussionist.

META: Yeah, my third cousin on my sister’s mechanic’s side is friends with the son of Pozo. Plus, I own like five albums by The Roots.

TAVIS: Good gosh oh mighty! You know, as a kid, I would always imagine myself playing in a…

META: (snores)

TAVIS: Before I let you go, I want to ask you about the reactions you’ve been receiving for the antics you bring to the world of gospel music. The beef, the diss tracks, the controversial videos not unlike the ones aired on BET: Uncut. There are those who are saying that you need to redeem yourself both as an artist and as a man. How do you respond to this criticism?

META: Redeem myself? Pleeeaze, I ain’t no coupon. All I got to say to the haters is that Meta Physics is running this mutha (bleeeeeeeeeeeeep) gospel game. Kirk Franklin, eat a (bleeeeeeeeeeep). God’s Property, eat a big fat (bleeeeeeeeeeeeep).

TAVIS: That's our show for tonight. Thanks for watching and, as always, keep the faith.

A Film Review of 50 Cent's 'Before I Self Destruct'

50 Cent’s latest album, Before I Self Destruct, is awful. In fact, aside from Eminem’s guest spot and the artful 'Baby By Me,' this CD should be sprayed with bullets.

But when musical content doesn’t measure up, it allows for other parts of an album to shine. For example, I didn’t care for Raekwon’s Only Built 4 Cuban Linx 2, but the cover art and liner notes for that album were first-rate. 50’s Self Destruct cover art? Not so much (it’s a Photoshopped headshot of him looking like an “as is” floor model of a T1000).

The sub-par music and art of Self Destruct don't matter though, because the album—or at least the version I checked out from the library—comes packaged with a movie, aptly titled Before I Self Destruct, in which 50 stars, writes, and directs.

In this poignant piece of cinema, 50 plays Clarence, an ex-streetball superstar who, after his mom is shot dead and he loses his job as a grocery clerk, decides to become a hitman. In this role—and especially in the scene where he tells the grocery store manger that he can read—50 separates himself from other rapper-turned-thespians (e.g., Will Smith and Mos Def) by showcasing his raw talent as a gifted method actor. A true student of Stanislavski, 50 outperforms everyone in the film, even Lloyd Banks.

50’s writing and directing are also superb. The film’s complex narrative and innovative mise-en-scène are that of a young Orson Welles, and the use of the Self Destruct album as the film’s soundtrack has Clarence listening to 50 Cent (which, because both Clarence and 50 are fictional, is brilliant). Also, in classic griot fashion, the film ends on a powerfully symbolic note with Clarence dying in a gunfight and his younger brother addressing the camera with the line: "I can't lose nuthin'. I got nuthin' to lose." Like Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing, this ending is bound to stimulate discussion in undergraduate film classes for years to come. If 50 keeps this up, he'll be on his way to auteur status—something that even Diddy doesn’t have.

Before I Self Destruct is more than a film. It’s an avant-garde social commentary disguised as a movie in which an artist named after a coin faces the ultimate moral struggle: whether or not to kill for lots and lots of money.

Bottom line: 50 and his directorial debut are genius. It’s his best work since Formula 50 Vitamin Water. And he didn’t have to lose 50 pounds to do it.

Watch the 'Before I Self Destruct' trailer.

Pop Pop for Beginners

In '94 I was listening to a lot of Bone Thugs-n-Harmony. I think everybody was. Between Thuggish Ruggish Bone and Foe tha Love of $ being some of the most requested jams on The Box—and I being 13 years old—it was hard not to.

One of the joys of listening to Bone was trying to figure out what these guys were saying (as anyone who has attempted to transcribe and decode a verse by Bizzy Bone can attest). But one Bone line that did not require an attuned ear was “pop pop.” This one was obvious. Pop pop was the sound of gunshots, as in, “We rippin' them guts with buck shots, pop pop.”

Per George Gerbner, my friends and I adopted pop pop into our everyday communication. We said it when Craig knocked Deebo the fug out, and we used it as trash talk when playing Samurai Showdown. For us, this phrase functioned not so much as the sound of a firearm but as the ultimate synonym for "in yo face!"

Over time, my use of pop pop faded. High school, college, marathons. All pop pop-less.

Years later, in grad school and in need a break from reading about Derrida (who, like Bizzy, requires a lot of decoding), I threw on some Bone, as those who need breaks from Derrida often do. The voices of Krazie, Lazie, Bizzy, Wish, and Flesh took me back to my adolescence—a time when I read comic books that were not about philosophers.

With Bone back in my life, the Bone-izms returned.

“What’s that?” Marj asked, referring to the two-count slap as we drove over a speed bump.

“It’s my antenna hitting the roof. Pop pop.”

Moral of the story? Language changes. The word "awful" was once favorable. Pop pop used to be rap lyric gunshot—now, it’s one of Derrida’s undecidables. People use it to describe sounds their cars make (ok, I use it to describe sounds my car makes), and cereals use it as their last line of defense. Pop pop is both accurate and un-accurate*, and neither accurate nor un-accurate, at the same time, both in the shower and out.

*Un-accurate is a Meta term. If Derrida is allowed to make up words, so am I. Pop pop, Jacques.

"Butterfly in the Sky (A Memorial Rap for Reading Rainbow)"

I'm sure you've heard the devastating news. Reading Rainbow has been canceled after a 26-year run. If you're anything like me, this show helped learn you not hate books as much. Anyway, I just got off the iPhone with Jay and, over our tears, we co-wrote "Butterfly in the Sky (A Memorial Rap for Reading Rainbow)." Check it out.


La da da da, hey hey hey, goodbye

Only author to rewrite history with a robot dolphin pen
Time for the greatest story of all stories to begin
Howard Zinn, Howard Zinn

This is anti-colorful stuff, death of the Rainbo
This ain’t for libraries, this ain’t for the book sto
This is Seal at the Garden, scarred for-ev-oh
This morning I’m in mourning
I know it sounds corny but
All I wanna do is take a look in a book
Those who canceled the show be straight crooked crooks
I know we facing a forward recession
But the loss of this homie just make me depressed, maaaan
The downfall of lit apprecia-shaaan
How much will these kidz hafta face, maaaan?
This writer gets reminiscent
The death of double R, I already miss it
The rainbow gone, who done killed it?
The love for books suffers, now let’s rebuild it
We all need hugz, that’s what the deal iz
So put the book down and take time to feel it
My heart is the beat of this beating
Damn it feels good to rap about reading
I’ll return to the book one day again
But I guess I’ll have to watch Nick Jr. 'til then

La da da da, hey hey hey, goodbye

Freaky Friday: My Mom Likes OutKast

The other day I had the car radio dial set to NPR. I was listening to the story of the first black quarterback in the NFL. My mom turned to me and asked, “What is this?”

It was obvious she didn’t care for my listening selection. “It’s public radio, Ma.” I said this in my most grown-up-do-your-homework-turn-that-TV-down-and-eat-your-vegetables voice.

Since I wasn't too invested in the program, I started to scan other stations. After all, it was her birthday. “Oh, I like this song!” my mom said. And for the next three minutes, she bopped her head and slapped her thigh to OutKast’s ‘Hey Ya!'

Have the roles of mother and son been reversed? Is my mom cooler than me?

I like public radio. She likes Andre 3000. I have a beat-up Samsung flip phone. She has a sleek touch screen device. She goes out with “the girls.” I go out “to work.” I think it’s only a matter of time before I stumble across her reality TV gossip blog. Just this morning she sent out a mass text of her predictions for this season's ABDC. Looks like I’ll be joining the “what your kid is really up to” parenting group on Facebook sooner than I thought.

That's okay. Next year, for her present, I'll be making a donation to NPR in her name.