Bill Cosby - "A word to the wise ain't necessary - it's the stupid ones that need the advice."

~~~

http://www.ew.com/ew/article/0,,20165873,00.html

Wesley Snipes Breaks His Silence

Once heralded for his butt-kicking roles in ''Blade'' and ''Passenger 57,'' the long MIA actor is waging a fight to clear his name amid allegations of tax fraud. In this exclusive interview, he speaks out on Hollywood, lawsuits, and his decade of woe


By Chris Nashawaty

Ten years ago, it was hard to be a bigger star than Wesley Snipes was. The Bronx-bred actor with the brooding good looks and the menacing physicality to back them up was routinely earning between $7 and $10 million per film. He was costarring with A-list actors like Robert De Niro and Sean Connery. And his movies were making money hand over fist. New Jack City. Jungle Fever. White Men Can't Jump. Passenger 57. Rising Sun. Waiting to Exhale. By the time he donned a black leather coat and dark sunglasses to play a half-human, half-vampire avenger in 1998's Blade, Snipes wasn't just one of the most popular African-American actors in Hollywood; he was fast becoming one of its biggest stars, period.

Since then, things haven't gone quite as one might have predicted. Over the past few years, Snipes' films have been shot on the cheap in places like Bulgaria, Romania, and Namibia. They've featured interchangeable titles like The Contractor and The Detonator and costars who are B- or C-list talents at best. The onetime power-list staple's paydays have taken a nosedive too, sometimes sinking to around $2 million per film. And the last five movies he's released have bypassed theaters altogether and gone directly to DVD.

What happened?

The better question might be: What didn't happen? For much of the past decade, Snipes has been mired in one legal scandal and publicity nightmare after another. Some of these were due to bad luck. Others seem to have been the result of bad judgment. And yet others, like the federal tax-fraud indictment Snipes currently faces, are so convoluted and downright bizarre that it's hard to figure out who's to blame.

Snipes has remained silent through it all. He's sat by as his reputation has taken devastating hits and offers from the major Hollywood studios have dried up. He's allowed other people to unspool the strange details of his once charmed life in the press. And considering his silence, it was easy to jump to the conclusion that maybe those rumors and accusations against him were true.

But on a wintry morning last month at his home in suburban New Jersey, Snipes finally agreed to talk. The only question is whether it's too late. After all, Snipes' career isn't the only thing that's in jeopardy. His freedom is too. Because next month, Snipes will stand before a jury that may convict him and send him to prison for 16 years.


At the end of a leafy cul-de-sac an hour's drive from New York City, Snipes' spread is both remarkable and unremarkable. It's a huge stucco estate with postcard views and endless lawns. And yet it's virtually identical to every other million-dollar house on the block. A Snipes employee answers the door, stepping inside to reveal an airy marble foyer flanked by a pair of life-size African statues. On one side is a male warrior holding a spear; on the other, a proud tribal mother nursing an infant. In between the two stands a fit 45-year-old man dressed in a dashiki, flashing a thousand-watt smile.

Snipes leads the way into a spacious living room and takes a seat in a hand-carved wooden throne. It looks like something from the Broadway version of The Lion King. The Snipes attendant places plates of fresh fruit on the coffee table in front of his boss, who launches headfirst into why he's agreed to this meeting. ''I've been trying to keep the private life private,'' he explains in a calm voice. ''Not being savvy or trained on how to do good interviews like a politician, I thought it was wiser to follow my mother's advice: If you have nothing good to say, don't say anything at all.'' But, he adds, ''I think now, because of the litigation, because of certain things that have been written...I thought it was time to share a little insight about where I'm coming from, how happy I am, how in-shape I am, and that life is good.''

Judging by his surroundings — the kids' toys that litter the living room, the opulence, the staff serving fresh fruit — life does indeed appear to be good. But, of course, it is not. Next month, Snipes will face trial on eight counts of tax fraud in a federal courthouse in Ocala, Fla. In its October 2006 indictment, the U.S. Attorney's Office alleged that Snipes (along with his financial adviser Eddie Ray Kahn and his long-distance accountant Douglas P. Rosile) attempted to defraud the IRS of more than $11 million in bogus refund claims for the tax years 1996 and 1997, and moreover, that Snipes did not file returns at all for the years 1999 to 2004.

When the indictment was unsealed, Snipes was in Namibia (on the southwest coast of Africa) shooting an independently financed zombie Western called Gallowwalker. And when the actor did not immediately turn himself in to federal authorities, his absence — and the fact that Namibia doesn't have an extradition treaty with the U.S. — fueled speculation in the press that Snipes wasn't just a celebrity tax cheat but also a fugitive.

Now, a year later, Snipes laughs at these allegations. ''They positioned it like, 'He's irresponsible, dangerous, guilty — this is why he's in Africa,''' he says. ''All these things, they play into our stereotypes. People think I'm Nino Brown or Blade. They think I'm an evil dude.'' When asked who ''they'' are, Snipes replies, ''People in positions of authority and who control mass media.''

Snipes maintains that when he first learned of the indictment, he and his attorneys immediately contacted the IRS and began negotiating his return to the States to turn himself in. But because his agreement with the IRS allowed him to delay his surrender in order to accommodate Gallowwalker's shooting schedule, it appeared as though he was stalling for time — that he was guilty. In December, Snipes chartered a private jet, flew from Namibia to Orlando, and turned himself in to the U.S. Marshals — ironically, the very same agency that he'd once observed and gotten to know while making 1998's U.S. Marshals, the sequel to The Fugitive.

Snipes flatly denies all of the government's charges against him and insists that he filed returns for all of the years in question. And while he admits that yes, with the assistance of Kahn and Rosile, he did request refunds totaling $11.4 million for 1996 and 1997 taxes he paid, he never did so with the intent to defraud the IRS. Instead, he claims he was merely following the counsel of his advisers. ''The accountants say you're entitled to a refund because of these particular rules and regulations,'' he says. ''So you say all right.... If someone tells me I'm entitled to a refund, I'll go for the refund!''

Snipes admits that these refund requests may have been a bit aggressive (they allegedly hinge on a discredited tax-protester gambit called the ''861 argument,'' which claims that the domestic income of U.S. citizens is not taxable). But he argues that if the IRS had a problem with the claims, then it was obligated to meet with him if he so desired. He says that he made that request, but the government indicted him instead of granting him the meeting. When contacted to respond for this story, the U.S. Attorney's Office declined to comment, saying only, ''We will do our talking in the courtroom.''

In the meantime, Snipes remains baffled by the charges, especially since he claims he was never paid the refunds in the first place. ''I never got a dime,'' he insists. ''I didn't defraud the government by taking money that was not mine. We never got it!'' Snipes says that the reason the IRS is targeting him has nothing to do with money at all, but rather his fame — that his arrest would be a high-profile trophy to deter others from claiming similar refunds. ''Oh, it ain't about the money,'' he says. ''What is the benefit of making such pomp and circumstance about this case? The amazing revelation in all of this is, I never thought I was that important.''

Both Rosile and Kahn have pleaded not guilty. When reached for comment, Rosile's lawyer would say only, ''My client has never met Mr. Snipes.'' According to the indictment, Rosile's CPA licenses in Ohio and Florida had been revoked; he is currently free on bail. Kahn, meanwhile, is in federal custody awaiting trial and could not be reached for comment. Still, if Snipes' strategy next month in court is to blame his advisers, then it raises a question — not a legal one, perhaps, but a commonsense one: Didn't he think that his accountants' promises of multimillion-dollar refunds were too good to be true?

Snipes laughs at this suggestion. ''Hell yeah, it sounded too good to be true!''

While it would be nice to say that Snipes' problems end there, they do not. In fact, they're just one layer of his misery.

Wesley Snipes was a small child. So small that his mother thought her oldest of eight might not grow at all — that he might be a dwarf. Because of his small size throughout junior high school in the South Bronx, Snipes was routinely beaten up. He remembers his family as being ''broke as a joke,'' but his mother, a dancer and community activist, scraped together the money to send him to a local YMCA to take karate lessons. Thirty-five years later, the classically trained actor holds a fifth-degree black belt in karate, a third-degree black belt in tae kwon do, and teaching sashes in kung fu and Brazilian capoeira. His wife, Nakyung, with whom he has four children, also holds a black belt in karate.

During Snipes' brilliant box office run in the '90s, he seemed like an actor afraid of being pinned down. He played the romantic lead in 1991's Jungle Fever, the motormouthed con artist in 1992's White Men Can't Jump, and even a woman named Noxeema Jackson trapped inside a man's body in 1995's To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar. But Snipes never strayed too far from martial arts. When he landed the action-hero role in Blade, he seemed to have found the part that would vault him to Hollywood's most rarefied level.

In 1998, the first installment of the Blade saga grossed $70 million for New Line. Four years later, Blade II pulled in $82 million. That trajectory should have made the third chapter, 2004's Blade: Trinity, an even bigger hit. Snipes' agents negotiated a $13 million payday for the actor — his highest salary ever. But the movie, which should have been the climax of his 25-year career, instead ended in a lawsuit.

Over the course of four hours with Snipes, it is easy to see how he became a star in the first place. He is intelligent, funny, and charming. But the actor also seems to have a natural gift for playing the offscreen role of the victim. Sometimes that role makes sense, like when he was sued for paternity in 2002 by an Indiana woman who claimed that he fathered her child. (The case was later dismissed when the biological father was found.) But other times, that victim's role has been less clear-cut, as in 2005, when he was detained in Johannesburg after allegedly trying to leave the country with a fake South African passport. Snipes calls the incident a ''misunderstanding'' but does not elaborate.

Snipes' 2005 lawsuit against New Line regarding Blade: Trinity is another example of his perceived persecution. (New Line and EW parent Time Inc. are both owned by Time Warner.) According to the multimillion-dollar suit against the studio, director David S. Goyer, and Trinity's producers, Snipes claimed that his character's screen time was reduced in favor of two new costars, Ryan Reynolds and Jessica Biel. He also contended that New Line didn't pay his full salary and that he was intentionally cut out of casting decisions and the filmmaking process as a whole — a role he said he was contractually entitled to as one of the film's producers.

While neither Goyer nor New Line would comment on these allegations, Snipes isn't as inclined to hold his tongue. In fact, he suggests that the color of his skin may have been a factor. ''Systematic racism was used to divert focus away from the real issues of an incompetent director and inexperienced producers with a $60 million budget,'' he says angrily, ''and onto the 'insubordinate, difficult, self-immersed actor.'''

Snipes claims the filmmakers did not take his suggestions seriously and that the film suffered as a result. He points to Trinity's underwhelming reviews and box office returns as proof of this (it made just $52 million). ''There are so few guys who do action and do it well,'' Snipes says. ''Even fewer who are African-American. Even fewer who have classical-theater training. So a cat like me coming in, I'm bringing all of that to an action movie. I'm not looking at an action movie as something where I just jump around and look beautiful and show my muscles. Since there are so few people that do this and have that pedigree, people disregard their contribution. I think that's what happened on Blade: Trinity.

Snipes believes that Goyer, his fellow producers,and New Line treated him like the hired help, or in his words, ''the new ho on the block.'' ''I found it fascinating to hear what people said about this project and how easy it was for people to jump on the 'Wesley's the bad guy' bandwagon. That's where I think the systematic racism comes in. We're conditioned in this country to believe that if there's a problem, the black man is usually the culprit.'' Snipes says that a portion of his salary — $3.6 million, according to the suit — was withheld as punishment. The New Line suit is still pending. ''We've had good conversations,'' he says. But it's hard to see how Snipes' comments will help those conversations. And somehow, the actor holds out hope that not only will the suit be resolved favorably, but there will also be a fourth Blade movie.

Either way, the damage to Snipes' career from the New Line suit may take some time to fix. It seems safe to assume that Hollywood studios won't be eager to hire an actor, even a star of Snipes' caliber, who sued one of their own. Which may explain the recent dearth of major studio films on Snipes' résumé. Snipes thinks his being blackballed is partly to blame. ''The industry began to believe that I was difficult to work with and a risk,'' he says. ''My lawyers told me, 'Wes, if you sue them, it's going to make a lot of other studio execs nervous and it could be a problem.' And I was like, 'What, you mean I'll be blacklisted?' And that's exactly what they've been trying to do.''

Since Blade: Trinity, Snipes has appeared in five consecutive movies that have gone directly to DVD. It's a fact he's not particularly thrilled about but nonetheless tries to see the bright side of. ''I actually didn't know these latest films were going straight to DVD,'' he insists. ''They don't tell you that!...There's a perceived stigma that these are lesser-quality films and that somehow the actor has devolved when the movie goes straight to DVD.'' But, Snipes says, his recent films have been successful overseas, where his popularity hasn't been affected by Stateside gossip columns. ''Internationally, I have as large of a fan base — if not larger — than I have domestically. So, on one hand, people go, 'Oh, he's doing DVDs! Too bad!' But on the other hand, it's constantly building up my foreign-market value.''

Be that as it may, there's no denying that Snipes is no longer at the top of his career. Perhaps the decade was cursed from the start. In the late '90s, the actor started a security firm called the Royal Guard of Amen-Ra (named after the Egyptian king of the gods) to provide VIPs with bodyguards trained in law enforcement, the military, and martial arts. But in 2000, this sideline business took center stage when wild reports surfaced about supposed ties between the Royal Guard and a Georgia-based religious cult, the United Nuwaubian Nation of Moors.

At the time, the Nuwaubians were based on a 476-acre compound in rural Putnam County, Ga. And their precepts ranged from ancient Egyptian mythology to black nationalism to a belief in extraterrestrials. They were also armed to the teeth. Anyone driving past their property in Georgia might not have known about the gun-toting sentries guarding the compound, but they would've noticed a giant pyramid and sphinx visible from the road. Snipes and his brother (who's also named Wesley Snipes, albeit with a different middle name) tried to purchase some 200 acres of land a couple of miles down the road from the Nuwaubians for the Royal Guard's training academy.

Needless to say, the proximity of the two properties, both with ancient Egyptian motifs and members with gun permits, caught the attention of the Putnam County sheriff — and the imaginations of the tabloids. Snipes denies any connection to the Nuwaubians and chalks the whole thing up to an unlucky coincidence. ''It was interpreted as an attempt on my part to start a militia,'' he says. ''This is all false.... I had no idea they were down there. I didn't know who they were!'' Snipes begins to crack up. ''That's crazy. I'm making movies, man. Who the hell wants to start a militia when you're in the movies?''

Snipes and his brother ended up pulling their offer on the land. Their security company is now based in Florida and Antigua. As for the Nuwaubians, in 2002, 300 state and federal law-enforcement officers raided their compound. ''It was really something like what you would see in a Wesley Snipes movie,'' says Putnam County Det. Sgt. Tracey Bowen. In 2004, the Nuwaubians' leader, Dwight ''Malachi'' York, was convicted on 10 counts of child molestation and racketeering. He's now serving a 135-year sentence at a federal prison in Colorado.

If Snipes is as innocent in all of these legal battles as he insists he is, he may very well be the unluckiest man on the planet. Still, there's something about his coolness in the midst of this mess that's hard not to admire. Even as his federal tax trial approaches, he possesses an almost serene calmness — a Zen-like sense that this too shall pass. His friend and longtime costar Woody Harrelson isn't surprised by Snipes' confidence. Harrelson, who refers to Snipes as his ''brother,'' says he's spoken to the actor recently and that he seems ''optimistic...and for good reason.''

More than anything, Snipes says he just wants to get back to work. He's particularly excited by the prospect of playing James Brown in a biopic that Spike Lee has been developing. As is Lee: ''Wesley is my man to portray the Godfather of Soul,'' he says. But at this point, Snipes' future in Hollywood seems almost beside the point next to his legal woes. At the end of our conversation, he's asked how he can be so sure that the lawyers and advisers he has now — the ones who seem confident of victory — aren't also giving the kind of bad advice Kahn and Rosile may have given him. Especially when the possible outcome is so severe — again, 16 years in jail. Doesn't this terrify him? What would happen to his wife and his kids?

Snipes thinks this over for a long time. The expression on his face is deflated, wounded. ''I understand the risks that are involved,'' he says quietly. ''I don't take this cavalierly. But I am in a spiritual place where I may not react the same way that other people may. At the same time, I have to be prepared to fight tooth and nail.... That's not a black thing, that's not a white thing. That's an American thing.''

~~~

Prodigy at the Shooting Range with his 7 year old kid. Only in America (or some Middle Eastern country occupied by America):



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I want to kill somebody:

The family of slain MC The Notorious B.I.G. were dealt a blow in their ongoing legal battle with the city of Los Angeles on Tuesday (December 18). According to LA’s Fox 11, a judge today dismissed a secondary wrongful death lawsuit filed by the family in April. U.S. District Judge Florence-Marie Cooper ruled that the family had not filed a claim within the required timeframe. She then granted a request made by the city and imprisoned former cop Rafael Perez to dismiss the case. Perez, a corrupt former cop, has been accused of conspiring with his former partner David Mack to murder the rapper. In 2005 Judge Cooper declared a mistrial in the trial that arose from the original suit filed by Biggie’s family. Fox 11 also reports that the parties involved in the still pending primary suit agreed last week to enter into mediation. As a result, the trial, scheduled for February, will be postponed indefinitely.

~~~

SAIGON IS BACK! YAY!!
from his myspace blog:

It Feels Good....

Whats up everybody??? First of all, I must say I was and still am amazed by the responses I get from the whole thing about me quitting the rap game. I have recieved literally thousands of messages, many phone calls from very influential people, and much support from just everyday people I may bump into on the street...The love is overwhelming I must say. I got over 500 comments on MySpace alone which was very encouraging considering its many more than I got for indulging in some ignorance with certain ignoramus' ..I got a very appreciated phone call from my brother Lupe Fiasco that really made me look at things from other angles.....Shout out to that brother and congratulations on that CRAZY album... Support that. I also got a very deep call from Datwon Thomas (Editor in Chief) from King Magazine...Thanks man, I got you Homie...Much love to EVERYBODY who expressed their concern whether good or bad...And thank you to everyone who left a comment on here, I was reading them joints like, 'Damn....Wow.....Whoa'

I still feel the same way I did a month ago when I expressed how I felt about the state of Hip Hop..I still feel it needs a major makeover ..I expressed this to my team and what they said was 'If not you Saigon, then who'? Then I started to think about all the schools I went to to talk to the kids about Gang Prevention and Prison Reform. I thought about one of my closest friends mother, who is a teacher at one of the worst schools in Camden N.J. and how she rewards them by bringing me up there to talk to the kids. I thought about the 12 year old girl who told me how my song 'Pain in my Life' stopped her from being promiscuous. I thought about my song 'The Color Purple' and talking to Fab 5 Freddy about how we could start a whole movement with this song to save some of the lives of black and brown children..I thought about the kids at In Arms Reach and the example I would be ultimately setting by just quitting at something they know I love doing and have worked so hard at..I thought about alot of things...After all the messages from yall, the phone calls from the 'real' industry people, and just the thinking I did...I decided 2 things, I decided that right now quitting is not an option for me, and number 2, that if Im going to continue to make music and do this rap thing...Im playing by MY OWN RULES....If youre not with me, youre against me....We have a plight to help save lives and enlighten people that we have some serious adjustments to make..So if youre a D.J. or a journalist who does something that is going to try and hurt what were trying to do, eg. not supporting my records or trying to slay me in the media, you are against me and what I stand for...If youll play a song that celebrates black and brown people killing each other, selling drugs to each other, or making it rain 1$ bills on some poorly eduacated young misled girl, but wont play the meaningful positive music....Youre against what we stand for and probably dont deserve that powerful position.With that being said, If I have to ever go back to prison, It shouldnt be over me hurting someone over what set they claim, or over a drug war, or cause somebody dissed me or some stupid shit like that, NO..It should be over the handling of the ones who continuously push this poison onto our children...This way I will feel personally justified everyday..And please dont take it as me making threats, I dont make threats...Im sorta like a suicide bomber for black children, If I have to give my life to save the lives of our children then geuss what? I will....Yall can go out gangbanging, or over a chic, but Im going out like THAT..

With all this being said,.My album WILL be released VERY soon.. Me and Just Blaze put alot of work into this thing, its finally done and we're more than happy with it...I feel there hasnt been an album this relevant since........Ever. This album is sure to shock alot of people...Hahaha I have literally 12 features on the album...All LEGENDARY artist...All of them, but I am the ONLY one rapping on my album..Oh, and Jay Z of course. Go figure.I wont give up much more about the album, YET...Oh I will say that I have a song produced by Kanye West and Just Blaze TOGETHER, that is a first, I think..hahaha..Regardless its crazy...Oh, I love Come on Baby even though the label didnt really support it, but I have decided that being Im coming back to do this and its a New Year, I needed a NEW first single (only I can do that)...So I will have a NEW first single out probably by Christmas Day...Whoever doesnt support this will again be going against what we (Abandoned Nation) stand for and it wouldnt be a good thing.....I Promise. Oh, and being Im back in this shit I could promote my new Street Album, the Moral of The Story..The shit is fantastic, you NEEEED that in ya life...Stand out cuts are, The God aka What A Life, In A Mess,Saigon Meets Just Blaze and tooo many more...These are on my page so you can sample the greatness...I mean, Who (besides maybe Nas) can paint a perfect picture like me...NOBODY....Get that Moral of the Story now and the Greatest Story coming Reeeeal soon.......Oh, I wanna thank Just (Futuristic Man ) Blaze for showing me what a blog was..I remember 3 moths ago everyone saying ' Damn Saigon is the Blog Bandit' Now everyone and their mother has a damn blog.....hahahahaha thats too funny.. Im back better than ever, back looking like me....

'It feels good to be home'.. Touch the Sky -Kanye West

THE GREATEST STORY NEVER TOLD.........................WATCH

~~~

INTERESTING. VERY INTERESTING:


Who The Hell Am I: Hip Hop - The New N-Word
December 11th, 2007 |
by Andreas Hale

http://www.hiphopdx.com/index/columns-editorials/id.966/title.who-the-hell-am-i-hip-hop-the-new-n-word


When Washington Redskins safety, Sean Taylor, was shot and killed in his own home, it wasn't just a robbery gone wrong. When a fight happens in the NBA, it isn't just a situation where tempers flared in a highly competitive game. When Don Imus called those ladies of Rutgers "nappy headed hoes" it wasn't just because he was a knucklehead making an ignorant shock joke gone terribly wrong.
It was Hip Hop's fault.

And our lesson for today kids?
"Hip Hop" is the new codeword for "nigger."

Now, before anyone goes on some rant that Hip Hop isn't just black, I must pose this question to you…

When the news says Hip Hop what do you think of?

Lie and say you think of some white kid in a Lacoste shirt. Tell a fib and say an Asian with a fresh pair of slacks. Hell, humor me and say Talib Kweli and Lupe Fiasco.

The truth is you visualize a black man with sagging pants, tattoos, a ball cap and a mean mug. He probably can't speak English well and brandishes a firearm at all times. He's probably the type of guy that makes uptight conservatives cross the street.

Notice I didn't say woman? Man. Black. Mean. Violent. Ignorant. Nigger.
So when they say "Hip Hop is responsible," they really mean "Niggers are responsible."

When they say "Hip Hop is ruining our children," what they really mean is "Niggers are ruining our children."

These niggers are responsible for everything these days aren't they? Virginia Tech shooting? Niggers. Don Imus? Niggers. Violence? Niggers. Infidelity? Niggers. Degradation of women? Niggers.

Hip Hop = Niggers (They're interchangeable…go ahead…try it!)

Although Hip Hop does its fair share of magnifying these conditions (to the massive approval of corporations who laugh all the way to the bank), it's really unfortunate that in the 1900's BHH or BN (Before Hip Hop or Before Niggers) that none of these problems existed.
What's that you say?

Rape, violence, racism and various other things linked to Hip Hop was around before Hip Hop?

No way! *oozing of sarcasm*

It's funny how "they" blame Hip Hop for the overbearing emphasis on ridiculous jewelry. I could have swore that people like Nicky Barnes and Frank Lucas were flashy before Hip Hop was mainstream. Curtis Mayfield didn't make them who they were and the music wasn't to blame for Wilt Chamberlain sexing up thousands of women. Sex existed before Too Short and Luke. Dope pushers were around before Young Jeezy. Pimping has been a part of society even before Suga Free.

For much of the media, Hip Hop somehow created all of these wonderful things and America was heaven on earth before Kurtis Blow rapped about basketball.
But it isn't just Fox News that contributes to the new nigger word.

You have Toms (as in Uncle) like Jason Whitlock who lend their black handed stamp of approval on this nonsense. Let's blame Hip Hop for the murder of Sean Taylor. Let's not blame impoverished communities that existed well before the Sugar Hill Gang uttered a single word on record. The reason for black on black crime has nothing to do with Hip Hop – rather the conditions and volatile society that we live in which has existed for years. To point the finger at Hip Hop is about as outlandish as saying the video game Grand Theft Auto is responsible for the Columbine shootings…

What's that?

They linked the two already?

Excuse me, my bad…

I've smoked a shitload of people in Call of Duty 4 but I never really got the urge to pick up an AK47 and go on a killing spree for "my" country. Hell, Mario never made me want to squish a turtle, pick up the shell and throw it at someone. But I enjoy the game.

If you think T.I. bought all those guns trying to find that one cool weapon Master Chief uses from Halo 3, then you are probably in the same line that says Michael Vick was influenced by "Who Let The Dogs Out?" I rest my case.

When Whitlock blamed Hip Hop for Sean Taylor's death, he might as well have just said "Niggers are responsible for his death." If you really think black folks are stupid enough to allow a 50 Cent song to influence crime, then you should also think that those same people would kill off "insurgents" because Arnold Schwarzenegger wacked his fair share in movies. Silly isn't it?
Basically what I'm saying is that people don't need a soundtrack to do dumb shit. They just do it.

Those young men were targeting a man who had more than them. Jealousy and envy isn't Hip Hop. If I'm not mistaken, burglary existed well before Hip Hop. The concept of stealing from someone who has more than you isn't a "Hip Hop" thing. Gun violence isn't a "Hip Hop" thing. It's the American way.

Don't get me wrong, Hip Hop does reinforce some negative stereotypes in our community that has super conservatives shaking their head while saying "those niggers are at it again." It does make it really difficult to defend the culture when all that's seen on TV is a bunch of rubbish while the other elements of Hip Hop remain underground. But, to place blame on a culture that is much more than sagging pants and ice grills is outlandish.

Whitlock's rant was about as reckless as the one Bill Cosby made as he blamed black people (and black people alone) for their high incarceration rates. It's too difficult to lift up the rug and see all the grit and dirt underneath this country's problem. Too hard to explain. So instead of getting to the root of the problem, they both took the easy way out. They both blamed Hip Hop.

But people forget that Hip Hop was birthed out of the impoverished and crime riddled communities that couldn't afford to give students real musical instruments. Hip Hop was a way out for many and was a musical genre black folks, and those suffering from the conditions of America, could call their own. Hip Hop has people like Common, Talib Kweli, dead prez and Mos Def who have done some pretty positive things. But do they blame Hip Hop for that? Hell no.

Will Smith and Queen Latifah were birthed from Hip Hop, but they aren't really "niggers" (read: Hip Hop) anymore due to their success. Or are they? Of course they are. Pay close attention the next time you see either in the news. Notice that their history in Hip Hop has vanished?

While Whitlock does make his points when it comes to the ignorance of Soulja Boy, Soulja Boy is not responsible for pulling a trigger. How unreasonable does it sound to say that if a person raped a woman - and just so happened to be black - that the term "superman that hoe" influenced his decision to rape.
How about he was just a sick person to begin with? But too bad, because if he happened to like Soulja Boy, people like Whitlock would be quick to throw him under the bus.

Oprah likes 50 Cent's music. Does that make her more likely to commit a crime? It's really absurd.

Really…

The best way to not be a nigger? Go against it publicly. Pay attention how conservative right wing media embraces any black person who has something to say about Hip Hop. Al Sharpton hasn't ever been on the news as much as he has since this whole Don Imus thing became Hip Hop's fault. Tell me I'm lying.
Mr. Whitlock, you too have separated yourself from being Hip Hop and being a nigger. Don't worry, Stanley Crouch has done the same. But when the revolution comes headed your way, guess who's going to have your back? That very Hip Hop culture you have erroneously blamed for society's ills.

So when they say "Hip Hop did it" and if you consider yourself "Hip Hop" then consider yourself a nigger in their eyes. If you are melanin deficient, consider yourself a nigger lover. The mass media sees no positivity in this culture and has basically lumped every black person on this planet that does wrong to Hip Hop.

Never mind those that use Hip Hop as a tool to spread positivity. Never mind that the only extensive education on Malcolm X, Fred Hampton, Marcus Garvey, Nat Turner, Assatta Shakur and others has come from Hip Hop music. Never mind the cleverness of a Lupe Fiasco, the brilliance of a DJ Premier, the revolutionary methods of Immortal Technique, the poetry of Nas, the women empowering lyricism of Jean Grae, the consciousness of KRS-One and the many others that use Hip Hop to challenge the mind. I mean, who else could make a song about the world's water crisis like Mos Def?

Michael Eric Dyson is Hip Hop, Aaron McGruder is Hip Hop, Cornel West is Hip Hop, Spike Lee is Hip Hop and none are scared to embrace it and be critical in a constructive manner of the culture they both love.

I bet you that the media doesn't blame Hip Hop for their success.

Now if Sean Taylor was found to like Alanis Morrisette and possess a mean square dance routine, then what would "they" say? If the criminals that took Taylor's life just so happened to be listening to Britney Spears' "Gimme More" on the way to Taylor's house, who would they blame it on then? But nobody is going to go that deep into any of their lives. Let's just go the easy route and blame Hip Hop.

They're just a bunch of niggers anyway right? But I'm just a critic – who just so happens to be the Editor-In-Chief of your favorite nigger-loving website, HipHopDX - Who The Hell Am I?

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Y@kballz - A Slept-on MC if there ever was one (that wasn't named Crooked I, LOL):



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SLIM KID AND FATLIP, TOGETHER WITH J-SWIFT AND ONE OF THE WASCALZ?!?! CHRISTMAS HAS COME EARLY FOR ME!



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CHRISTIANITY AND CASHFLOW, ONE AND THE SAME:

Reflections on Hip Hop Culture, Christianity & Social Capital

by Josef Sorett, Kinetics

http://faithinmotion.net/faith-and-politics/2007/12/3/reflections-on-hip-hop-culture-christianity-and-social-capit.html

In recent years, references to Creflo Dollar, arguably the most popular black prosperity preacher of the day, have become a visual and verbal fixture in Hip Hop music. Such instances include a cameo appearance in Ludacris and Jermaine Dupri's "Welcome to Atlanta" video, an invocation in a song by Fifty Cent, a professed pastoral affiliation by Mase, and a shout-out from Lupe Fiasco in his underground re-mix of Kanye West's "Jesus Walks."

This would seem to suggest, at least within the culture of the bling, that Christianity has become as much a signifier of wealth and power as it is evidence of any specific type of theological vision. Evidently Dollar – for whom wealth is a core spiritual value – seems to embody, for many Hip Hop artists, the essence of Hip Hop's hustle doused in holy water. Interestingly, Pastor Dollar also has a rap video in the works, performed a by a group of rappers, the Ziklag Boyz, who belong to his church and record on his Arrow Records label. A surprise to no one, the song's refrain is simply, "Money, money, coming down!" (see below ). While the video draws much resemblance to Lil' Wayne and Fat Joe's tale of the strip club, "Make It Rain," – with dollar bills floating across the screen – noticeably absent from the Ziklag Boyz' video are the bodies of scantily clad black and brown women.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dFyMEnXDG4g

For male rappers, it is the bodies of black females that often make their rap videos so profitably seductive, but Dollar insists that the power to get "bling" can just as easily be achieved dropping bible verses like they're hot. The mutual resonance between much of rap music and Dollar's prosperity ministry is but one instance where Christianity seems to function as an explicit form of social capital in popular culture.

Hip Hop also has it's own tradition, beginning in the mid-1990s, of artists who have imagined themselves in the image of the crucified Christ. MCs such as Tupac, Diddy (then Puff Daddy) and Nas have all experimented with the iconography of the old rugged cross. The most recent installation of Hip Hop's Stations of the Cross, if you will, introduces what I believe is the first female rapper – Remy "Remy Ma" Smith – to offer herself as a living sacrifice. In Remy Ma's short video "Shesus Khryst," also the title of her most recent album, the self-proclaimed Queen of New York spits:

If Jay Z's J-Hova, and Nas is God Son,

and I was spitting crack so the people would die, son.

And then I came back, like I never left nice.

I'm the BX savior, Shesus Khryst!

… See Pun told them, she's so nice

and when it comes to the pen that she was like

some of the greatest of men the way she would write

and now I'm the BX Savior, Shesus Khryst!

Perhaps in its earlier incarnations images of the crucified rapper were meant to conjure memories of the lynching tree, updated in the form of images of black men perceived to crucified by media or corporate forces. In a peculiar synthesis of Hip Hop's gender politic, Remy's lyrical persona usurps masculine power (by citing her endorsement from Fat Joe), while her posture on the cross accents her curvaceous "feminine" mystique. In short, by rapping "like some of the greatest of men" while draping her body across the cross, she both seduces male listeners and seizes power typically perceived to belong to male rappers. In the end, Remy Ma makes her point abundantly clear. Hopes for a black feminist critique of Hip Hop's misogyny aside, Jesus-talk is often meant simply to clarify just who has "the Juice."

Most recently, Philadelphia MC Cassidy has released a new album, B.A.R.S, the Barry Adrian Reese Story, which is saturated with explicitly Christian lyrics – no parental advisory necessary. At the outset of the video to his lead single, "My Drink N' My 2-Step," Cassidy seamlessly segues from a pre-concert entourage prayer ending with the customary, "In Jesus Name," into the song's ever popular hook, "I got my drink and my two-step." Elsewhere on the album, he imagines a new type of G-thang:

When I'm floatin off course, then the Lord is my anchor.

I know you feelin me ain't cha? See Christ died on the cross,

that's keepin it gangsta.

In "Done For Me," Cassidy explains that God is helping him to make lifestyle changes that will lead away from the familiar fates of the prison cell and premature death. And on "Leaning on the Lord's Side," he re-makes a chorus ever-popular at evangelical youth services to explain, with the assistance of Angie Stone vocals, that "leaning on the Lord" will lead you out of the worst tales from the 'Hood. However, on other tracks, like "I Pray," he revives the more familiar Hip Hop prayer of protection while he continues to push bricks. Amidst the ambiguities of Cassidy's efforts to balance street credibility, financial security, nightclub viability and Christian theology, Jesus emerges not only as the religious exemplar, but also as the ultimate protector and the original gangster.

Perhaps the major exception to this rule – of conflating Christianity with social capital – was Kanye West's "Jesus Walks." West, who appeared on the February 8, 2006 cover of Rolling Stone magazine adorned with his own crown of thorns, on the one hand, preached a deeply personal piety, while on the other, he proclaimed a theology of the oppressed in which Jesus' closest affiliations are murderers, strippers and drug dealers.

In fact, Kanye provided a rather nuanced vision of contemporary American Christianity that he felt required three separate music videos. In Video One (Church Version), Kanye – donning a black suit and thin black tie – inherits the mantle of the Civil Rights Movement version of black Christianity.

In Video Two (Chris Milk Version) he makes connections between chain-gangs of shackled black men, hooded white men and burning crosses in the South, as well as southwestern border crossings negotiating by white police officers and presumably Hispanic drug-runners – meanwhile Kanye raps with a backdrop engulfed in flames.

In Video Three (Street Version), Kanye seems to poke fun of the Prosperity Gospel as he is followed around by a white Jesus who puts money in his pockets, food in the refrigerator and provides physical healing for a friend. Yet this white Jesus is also contrasted with two black Christic figures; one, with permed hair who playfully dances with neighborhood children, the other dreadlocked and surrounded by brothers on the corner.

Amidst these complexities, Kanye made all of us who subscribe to Cornel West's vision of prophetic Christianity or who stand in the tradition of Liberation, Black and Womanist theologies immensely proud. Yet he too bowed to prosperity pressures when he invited Mase to offer a Hip Hop prayer of Jabez at the beginning of the remix to "Jesus Walks." And never mind his line of diamond encrusted Jesus-pieces, co-designed with Jacob the Jeweler.

Nonetheless, West's song received steady rotation both on the radio and in nightclubs in 2003-04. It led to his being invited to perform at youth services, and it even won him a Grammy award. In fact, it was Gospel music circles that were quick to draw lines, rescinding Kanye's nomination for a Stellar Award – the Christian equivalent of a Grammy. While good news to some, the Gospel music industry wanted to be clear: Jesus-talk does not a Christian rapper make. Moreover, the Stellar Awards gesture served to clarify for any of us confused enough to think that there might be some shared values between "secular" rappers and black Christian churches.

Nonetheless, in the litany of such microphone controllers as Creflo Dollar, Remy Ma, Cassidy and Kanye West we are provided with a rather rich vision of the multiple ways race and religion shape (and are shaped by) the American cultural landscape. Ultimately, at a moment when Christianity has re-emerged at the center of American popular and political culture, many Hip Hop artists and preachers – black, white and other – alike bear witness to the persistent appeal of what Cornel West has identified as the imperialist impulses of a "Constantinian Christianity" that uncritically celebrates the unbridled acquisition of capital, namely social power and financial prosperity.

For more information http://www.josefsorett.com/



THE LAST FEW ENTRIES CAME FROM WWW.DAVEYD.COM , SUPPORT THE BROTHER, HE'S ONE OF THE GOOD ONES

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The Inescapable Allure of Grown-Man Shit
Ghostface Killah on the perils of your fans—or your co-stars—not wanting you to grow up
by Rob Harvilla
December 4th, 2007 2:36 PM

Poor Jay-Z. With Kingdom Come, he sheepishly dabbled in growth, maturity, introspection, nuance, evolution: "30's the new 20" and so forth. He was met with hoots of derision. We laughed him out of the room. He wanted to grow up; we preferred he didn't. So this year he gave us what we wanted: American Gangster, a throwback-soul reminder that he used to deal drugs.

Happy now?

"The people want you to stay a certain way for the rest of your life," says Ghostface Killah, Staten Island's (not to mention the Wu-Tang Clan's) finest. "People don't want change, man. But you're becoming a grown man. You can't be 45 years old talking about how many bricks, how many kilos you turned over, how many you sold, at 45. People have to start talkin' grown-man shit. I respected Jay-Z on that shit, you know what I mean?"

Ghostface Killah is 37. Jay-Z is 38. But he doesn't seem to have his label president's fan-antagonizing problem, this citizen's arrested development, because from the onset (as a solo entity, 1996's Ironman), Ghost has freely trafficked in nuance, introspection, grown-man shit. He's vicious and venomous, of course, specializing in painstakingly detailed noir tales of armed robberies and the improvised, asthma-inflaming getaways from the cops that often ensue. Very few of his characters make an honest living; one of the best tracks on his masterpiece, 2006's Fishscale, is called "Kilo," after all. But he's also warmer and goofier than his adversaries in the crack-rap trade—sweeter, more wistful, more morally complex. Fishscale's finest moment, "Big Girl," reprises his signature trick of not so much sampling a classic soul track (here, the Stylistics' "You're a Big Girl Now") as merely throwing it on and rapping over it, unadorned: He addresses a pack of ladies and vacillates from crass faux-pimp talk to something genuinely fatherly . . . he wants to protect them, nurture them, wean them off the drugs he's spent the bulk of the last 19 tracks pretending to sell ("Some of y'all nose hairs is burnt," he notes with alarm), and set them on the path to happiness, marriage, career fulfillment as doctors, lawyers, nurses, librarians. Every rapper occasionally feigns this sort of compassion; Ghost makes you believe it.

"You gotta take 'em there, man," he insists, chatting on the phone, still on a roll. "You gotta start talkin' about more adult things. You talkin' about kilos all day, it's like, 'C'mon, man.' I gotta start talkin' about—help savin' the babies, man. And getting these women to be a real mother to they child, and getting these guys to start fuckin' lovin', respectin' my women. You gotta grow—development. And your fans'll get mad at you and shit, but they gotta understand too, man. That this is your life, man; this ain't they life. I done gave you what I could give you when we was all livin' in that world, but we ain't doin' that no more. You know what I mean?"

Ghostface surmises that some rappers don't even truly hit their stride until their late thirties, even beyond. Him, for example. "I don't think I'm in my prime," he says. "But I think that for me not to be in my prime, I'm doing a good job." Proof of that—not truly great yet, but good enough—can be found on his new solo disc, The Big Doe Rehab. Expect a reception less rapturous than that which greeted Fishscale, but significantly warmer than the one accorded Kingdom Come. There's some loopy, fantastic moments here, particularly "Supa GFK," Ghost waxing surreally lascivious over Johnny "Guitar" Watson's "Superman Lover": "Walk through the Amazon spillin' Dom, Mo find my way back I gotta leave a trail of baguettes." But grim, blackhearted crime procedurals like "Yapp City" and "Shakey Dogg Starring Lolita" lack the visceral wallop and delighted wordplay that Ghost is capable of, and there's nothing as joyfully playful as "Back Like That" or as paternally endearing as "Big Girl." "I'd Die For You" has a whiff of that benevolence and romance, but the seething last verse is devoted entirely to people Ghost wouldn't die for. (Don't take it personal, but that list probably includes you.) Lead single "We Celebrate" has a manic, exhilarating energy—screeching Kid Capri cameo, Rare Earth sample and all—but it sounds more like an NFL highlight-show jingle than a crossover smash. Rehab will sate the converted, but struggle to convert the rest.

There's another problem here. The latest in a prolific, potentially oversaturating stretch for Ghostface—after Fishscale came late 2006's More Fish, by definition a motley pack of outtakes with auxiliary crew Theodore Unit that still hung together fine as a full album—Rehab is also doing battle with next week's marquee release: Wu-Tang Clan's 8 Diagrams, the increasingly fractured group's first effort since 2001's disappointing Iron Flag. First came a public spat over scheduling—briefly, both records were set to come out the same day until Ghost balked and Wu mastermind RZA politely (and publicly, and somewhat grumpily) agreed to push Diagrams back a week. But in addition to loudly complaining of financial mismanagement, Ghostface is also joining Raekwon (on record, at least, his closest Wu ally) in attacking Diagrams itself.

"RZA is fumbling the ball," Ghost says. "You know what I mean? Fumblin' the ball. He wanna do what he do, when we trying to tell him, like, 'Yo, man, do this or do that.' His music wasn't sounding like how it was when we first came in. And it's hurting us. People want that old Wu-Tang shit, but you tryin' to make new shit—tryin' to play live instruments, instead of just goin' to the crates and just do what you do best. You still a master at what you do, but right now you ain't lookin' like that master, 'cause you tryin' to do other stuff. We were just upset with the way things was comin' out."

To be fair, Diagrams is a dense, abstract, deliberately nauseating, deeply disturbing piece of work—you'd think extensively biting "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" would make a song more accessible, not dramatically less—unlikely to halt the Wu's slide in the public consciousness, losing ground to fresher entities (Southern rap, primarily), a calamity that Ghostface's recent success has valiantly battled against. But it's unfair that the main thing we know about this record, a week before its official release, is that two of its biggest rappers seem to hate it. And even if after five listens you find it repulsive, that's still five hours or so of deep, bewildered fascination. Diagrams deserves better than I fear it's going to get.

And furthermore, isn't RZA just trying to do what Jay-Z tried to do, what Ghostface says you must do: evolve? Grow and develop and experiment, even at the risk of pissing off your fans? "We just need to go back to what we been doin'," Ghostface insists. "If we not gonna go back to what the people—if you tryin' to get somethin' new, then do it right . . . Not just a beat with a bunch of rhymes goin' different types of ways, and the beat's not even all that, but you want everyone to sing on it."

Diagrams could undoubtedly benefit from some warmth, some familiarity, some semblance of sanity. But a drop or two of its wide-eyed, half-crazed eccentricity wouldn't have killed The Big Doe Rehab, either. As the tiff gets uglier and more public, interviewers lately have inundated Ghostface with Wu questions, to his understandable frustration: "I don't care if you ask me about it, but let's not just sit there and go for 40 minutes on it," he says. But a reconciliation is crucial here: It could reinvigorate what remains one of East Coast rap's most beloved franchises, and boost to new heights Ghostface, its star attraction, highly evolved relative to his competition but battling a whiff of staleness within his own outstanding catalog. But is it possible to make peace? "I'm not sure," Ghost says. "I can't tell you that, because it's serious with Wu-Tang Clan right now. It's serious. So I don't know." What would have to happen for everyone to reconcile? "I can't even tell you. I can't even tell you. I can't even tell you."

http://www.villagevoice.com/music/0749,harvilla,78530,22.html

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and on that note, time to create my day.
I love you all, and there's nothing you can do about it.
Mindbender Supreme